


With Death Guiding Your Steps

by khapikat222



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Almost Kissing, Also you have two dances now, And getting caught in compromising positions, Animal Death, Any excuse for me to write out a dance scene, Art museum Tour, BSing on SW Animals, Ballroom Dancing, Dance with Thrawn, Dance with Vader, Game Hunting, Gossip, Hunting, Insults, It's Darth Freaking Vader There's always a threat of death, Jealousy, Lunch Dates, Mind Manipulation, Nothing happens but it's really heavy in chapter 3, Nothing too graphic with violence, One-Shot, Other, Political Parties, There are more hints and they're going to ge obvious, There is just so much tension here, Threat of Choaking, Trade Deals, Vader has to one up Thrawn, We stan a Sassy Vader with Deadpan Humor, because it's Thrawn, color symbolism, force sensitive animals, fox hunt, hunting for sport, i'll leave that up to you to decide, political machinations, political talks, so many secrets, stepping on toes, that could be mideval AU but also in canon, threat of death, with more coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khapikat222/pseuds/khapikat222
Summary: Have you ever wanted to dance with Death?No?Too Bad.The Empire is a den of death with the gods as the head of state. And you must bow to their wims, attend their balls, Smile and Wave, less some bastard deem your planet treasonous. It's exhausting work. But maybe there can be a moment you enjoy yourself.
Relationships: Darth Vader/Reader, I had to change it recently XD, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Reader
Comments: 31
Kudos: 60





	1. With Death Guiding Your Steps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NovemberBlueSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberBlueSky/gifts).



> This is just a little one shot I wrote during winter break and had up on Tumblr. Figured it would be beneficial to post it here. I'm gifting it because NovemberBlueSky is just talented and deserves a soft romantic treat. They do amazing star wars fics and smuts so go give them some love!  
> I did write this with a feminine or she/her reader in mind, if someone asks I'll go through and make it as gender neutral or male as possible. Also I have no intention of expanding this into a full thing but I may be motivated by personal blips, submitted ideas, or if I have time.
> 
> I recommend listening to some dark waltz music while reading this!!!

The emperor has summoned the highest lords and ladies of the galaxy for another banquet. One you have been made to attend by your planets court to curry favor from the empire. The palace is just as fanciful and drab. Gilded monotony of business and scheming. A senate hearing of global concerns and trades disguised as a masquerade.

You play your role well, tittering at the drab jokes. Praising the empire’s might to loyalists while your home receives nothing but scraps in turn for their protection and trades. Barely wincing at the young captains’ poor attempts to consider toe stomping a style of dance. Thanking the maker for Palpatine’s wise guidance and Lord Vader’s efforts towards galactic peace. With a vituperative smile painted in bloody hues.

The hours drag and you are certain your toes have blackened with the Imperial boots. Your throat raw from the lies you’ve prattled in the faux golden ballroom. The emperor has long since retired, the dark lord with him. No doubt their shadows linger in the grand halls where drunken generals and ambitious nobles reveal their weaknesses to exploit.

You escape the glittering viper’s pit. Your eyes forced to adjust from the gaudy bright light into the softly lit halls. The pillars casting shadows that hold many a memory of trysts, assassinations, and stalking. You flee calmly from the callous court knowing there is not much you could do for your home or planets position in the empire. Every step into the dark halls soothing the garish life you lived.

The darkness guides you to a rare sight. A private garden with no guards barring entry. The world is bathes in cerulean light from the moons above. resting on the black marble benches. taking what little piece you could from the night. The music echoing in the halls like a ghostly memory.

Just as your thoughts turn to the nonsensical remarks and false platitudes, you hear it. The steady threat of the dragon’s breath. Lord Vader.

You never get the chance to stand and curtsy before you feel his hand on your shoulder. Pinning you to your seat. The once warm summer air turning cold in his presence. as if you’re atlas and the world was just place upon your shoulders.

“There is no need to rise your highness.” He speaks with order in his tone and you question the respect given of your title by him.

Yet your mask returns quicker than the snakes bite: “Thank you Lord Vader. I feared my time in promenade has made me feint.”

He is silent save for the rumbling reminder of his breath. You would have thought him a statue with how still he was. The skull helmet watching you. His hand remains on your shoulder.

“My Lord you need not remains standing on my account, the bench is large enough for three.” you gesture to the emptiness beside you. If you were to continue this farce beyond the gala you would have some pathetic semblance of equality.

It surprised you that he does as you request. The weight from his hand leaves and he settles confidently by your side, a respectful distance apart. The darkness shrouds him, his form lit only by the smallest lights from the windows above. His mask stares at nothing much like every other mask you’ve seen tonight. You do however feel the weight of his gaze, an interest, a curiosity, an annoyance? You’re not certain of his motives in such a stare.

You are only brave enough for a few glances. Darting to the void then back to the lush fauna and alien flora. The mask hides more than you think it ought too. The unfair advantage he has; not considering if he is smiling less then he should. If he insults some Moff with a sneer or uncontrolled laughter. Your more than certain your exhaustion shows through your eyes. The barrier of civility barely held onto in the other room with each backhanded compliment you received.

“I scarcely think civility counts as a mask.”

The snort escapes you before you could even think to contain it. You hand flying to your lips to ground your thoughts. The dry wit was unexpected. His reading of your thoughts eerie. Your wide eye’s staring unabashed into the mask of death.

“If only civility were more than a front My Lord.” You reply. “I’d rather have my rapier in hand before their complements leave their mouth.”

“I would reckon you would have their toes first.”

You cannot hold back your laughter this time. Not by your gloved hands, not by locking your lips close. Your shoulders shake and your head tilted back. You hear the Lord’s vocoder by your side spewing some garbled noise quietly. When you turn to look his posture is less stiff.

“I’m certain your captains are better dancers on the field of battle My Lord.” You say shaking your head, the laughter quieting.

You sit in the garden trading quips and quiet laughter. You openly insulting the commanders and posh nobles you had to contend with. Things you could never hope to do to their faces. Willingly spilling the relevant gossip that would aid him and the Emperor. And Lord Vader took your comments in stride, adding to your criticisms with his dry humor and remarks. The music and chatter of the ball doing much to cover your shared attacks of dignity towards the inept members of the Empire. Talking well into the night.

Your conversation lulled into a companionable silence. Taking in the darkness and what shapes you could see within. It felt good to just air discourtesies and joke on the pettiness of royalty. No doubt your conversation would be used against you and your planet later. But there was not much hope to sway anyone to your aid when your family received the invitation months ago. Figuring it would be nicer to dig the grave before you were placed within.

Lord Vader moved and you jumped. Your fear skyrocketing thinking now would be the time you’d pay for insulting members of the Navy. Instead, the black skull peered down from his height and offered a hand.

“May I have this dance?” His words were a question. His voice was an order.

So, you took his hand. Standing once more on your sore bruised legs. You head barely reaching his chest, your hand grasped in his, the hard leather felt through your gossamer glove. The other on your waist proper, yours settling on the bicep to spare your arm the reach. His steps guiding yourself into the simple waltz, the echoing music guiding the pace.

“I never took you for a dancer Lord Vader.” No one had ever seen him approach a dance floor. And he certainly wasn’t required to do so.

“I know enough to avoid stepping on toes.” He deadpanned.

And you laughed once more. Dancing in the dark garden, surrounded by snakes, with death guiding your steps. 


	2. The Sweetest Touch from Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one ever puts down the hours spent in meetings and social gatherings, and dinners, and kissing imperial ass.  
> It should be mandatory to write down the hours of the event as well as the days of attendance on the invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to talking with NovemberBlueSky and now this is going to be a 7 chapter thing....FML. but don't worry I have things planned out! It just will take time to write everything yeah? You trust me to finish this yeah?  
> No?  
> To bad I'm going to prove you WRONG XD
> 
> ALSO REALLY RECOMMEND PUTTING THIS ON LOOP WHILE YOU READ: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpbX7SbXOtU

You wondered if your parents back on Roche ever knew how long these events were. The invitation had in clear calligraphy placed the dates of attendance for one standard week. Yet you wonder if they omit the hourly time intentionally.

You are up by 5am to have a light breakfast provided by palace servants. By 6, you’re dressed for the day in modest attire and markers of your planet’s origin, the seal broach of your house resting on your chest over your heart. The outfit is heavier than the Corasaunti latest fashion, nor is it lighter than Naboonian outfits, but it’s functional and warm. With pockets! At 7 sharp, you’re dining with other nobility of your shared rank in the empire. Other intermediaries and representatives from the bordering Mid Rim planets.

These breakfasts are the closest you get to feeling like your back home. Grabbing a basket of bread and fruit and sharing them around the table, spreading the butter over the entire thing rather than bit by bit. No more than five silverware to be concerned about. The whole meal in one plate in a sizable portion. Your manners remain of course: there are napkins tucked and covering your lap and the crumbs are minimal. The fork and knife left on the plate in an X when you finish.

It’s the only time of the day you are more open and candid with your peers. For they are in the same boat as you. Limited assets to share. Tight markets that only profit your local clusters of stars, rather than the entire galaxy. No brokering power among the echelon of the elites. Indeed, you are with your people here in the morning as the light of Corusant finally rises.

Then 8am rolls in like a death knell and you leave for your chambers once more.

Switching to a lighter dress and flatter heels to last through the day. You’re face is painted and your personal employees set about your appearance. Choosing the best attire for the city and warmth, something that you can wear contentedly and not slight the emperor with your paltry apparel. The jewelry is the few treasures you’ve transported with you and covet. Just enough to pretend you’re more affluent than your planet truly is in this economy. But not invaluable enough to barter with realistically. The necklace sits like a collar, the bracelet act as shackles, and for one moment you dream the earrings were communicators if only to record every falsehood and calumny for blackmail.

By 8:30am you’re striding the halls of the palace towards the first of many meetings. Mainly with imperial officers that brag about a particular section of the empires might. Their voices near moaning indecent descriptors with how much their devotion for their empire grows with each new planet that joins. Never mind the seminars do not share the expenditures on such military organizations. The denigrated labor short-changed for security against fictitious enemies of the state. The contemptable fees for protection against bootlegging in certain sectors. With a break at 10am to talk about the superior military you have ever glimpsed and spew more gilded vitriol for their trifling delight.

By 11am it’s time for lunch, and you opt for the outdoor dining, viewing the skycars and ships flying about in the sky as the large central garden has been furnished with tables and light adornments. The unnatural verdure beneath your feet does not sink your heel. For which you are equal parts appreciative for and disdainful over. You had hoped to breath in some plant life, but it’s synthetic which you should have known better for a city planet.

The meal is set upon little disposable spoons and refreshments are light and airy. Its opulence in the form of rubbish. Yet you cannot stop your hand from seizing a single cracker with some repugnant blue cheese and take small bites. It’s scarcely enough to nourish you until dinner. And you know the hunters are slowly draining you down in the pursuit. The meals growing less and less in sustenance and size as the time goes on. Less time for you to collect your might as the conferences, consultations, and dances go on extended into the night.

With as much decorum you can muster, you consume as much as is permissive. Sip on what little water they serve in the afternoon. Smiling and giggling and supplying dialogue to the ever-increasing threat to your home.

By Noon, the first session of dancing commences. Aristocracy is not expected to partake, so you do your best to avoid the center of the garden where a raised stage has been established to prevent the micro scrapes of polyester plants against polished boots. And you observe them while speaking in sifted riddles and half-truths towards your imperial meliorates. You watch the poor ladies and aliens being stepped on as they twirl for the Admirals amusement and the Emperors thrills. Wherever the callous tyrant is watching from.

You are able to excuse yourself to the refresher without complaints or odd glances. And for a trice you’re able to relax. Huffing against the mirror with running water cooling your heated hands. You really should give your personnel a raise. For you can barely see the ever-encroaching enervation that hugs the bottom of your eye’s, the warm glow of your cheeks painted in blush and highlights diverting from the aggregate redness in your eyes.

But the observation and pause are only minutes, you return to the caucus without a verbal objection or any contemplation of your tiredness for political affairs. Your head held high and the mask once more cover your entire body.

By 2pm, guests are allotted time to themselves. There are opportunities of course to socialize with the highest commanders of the armada in the greater rooms, and more cavorting that could be had in the garden. But you find yourself taking a insignificant speeder through the city markets in more moderate dress, with your workers by your side. You intend to buy them all trinkets that they can sell in emergencies for their family. And anything else you can afford to spare for your family back home. It’s not considerable but it’s more than you know you could ever bring back from this miserable affair.

You get to spend all but ten minutes before there are troopers running toward you.

Did you break a directive of the event? As far as you knew (and asked multiple times to anyone in charge of the registry and pastimes) it was alright for invited guests to visit the city and elsewhere on the planet as long as you stayed out of the darkened areas, off limit locations, and your parents conveyed inflexibly that you were to not even contemplate going towards the lower levels or red-light districts less you diminish the strength of your planets professed reverence.

The troopers say nothing when they finally reach your modest company, your workers are frightened. But you know you’re in the clear.

“Is there something you need soldier?” you inquire with an authoritative edge to your voice. Your time with your father in the training fields giving you that little vociferous edge to place yourself as their betters. For now at least.

“We were sent to protect you, your Highness.” The left one speaks.

Now that you know is not necessary, you are no high official, you’re not even on the Emperor’s radar for close grooming and deputations. “May I inquire on who sent you?” You need to know. If some admiral got attracted to a marriage union you knew your parents would want you to capitalize on it. for the expansion of your home power.

“Lord Vader oversees security for all nobility that visits the palace on the Emperor’s Request. He sent us.” The trooper on the right, a captain by the bright black pauldron on his shoulder indicates. “Please feel free to explore Corusant at your leisure, your Highness.”

That’s a double lie and you know it. You narrowly catch your facial muscles flexing towards shock. But you catch yourself before you embarrass yourself or insult Darth Vader’s troopers. Admiral Bethrogg was put in charge of security and made sure everyone knew of that the very first day of this charade. There were no guards sent when other minor planetary dignitaries left the palace grounds yesterday. You watched from your room and recognized the people you would breakfast with.

“How considerate, Thank you captain.” You reply, not moving a muscle until the troopers parted.

The rest of the day goes relatively relaxed. You manage to get small expensive baubles for your four workers that volunteered to attend you in the capital. And with a slight badgering on your part, you purchase an energy capacitor for your two trooper guards. Within parameters for their weapons but would aid their efforts with concentrated shots. Practically doubling the number of shots they could take before needing reloading. They follow the speeder you return in, being flanked on either side as you return is jarring.

By the time you return at 4pm it’s time to prepare for dinner. You manage a short wash in the shower while your workers flutter about the room preparing your raiment. When you exit in a robe you see the door shutting and your eldest worker is ashen face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“We don’t have an appropriate dress for you to attend a dinner with the Emperor!” she nearly wails.

The other workers share the dread, and start tearing into what clothing you brought trying to figure out a new outfit. You in contrast are more bewildered on why the emperor would choose you to join the other admirals and more affluent members of society. You fear it has to do with your words to Lord Vader.

“The simplest dress will do.” You speak. You figure your being set up for a social death. And you would not pretend to be of anyone of high standing. you refuse to put up a farce if this truly is the case. “Same with the hair and makeup.”

“Your highness!” the eldest worker all but pleads with her few words.

“They will see our planet as nothing more than another beggar with little to offer and little to lose should we remain neutral after this. I refuse to let them pretend otherwise.” You would face the starving lions with nothing but your hands and wit.

You _knew_ , your workers _knew_ , the people of your home planet _knew_ there was nothing you could possibly gain here. And if the elite wanted a scape goat to play with, they would have a hard time trying to flay an already weakened representative of a weak planet. They would not be able to justify your death or insult. They would have to behave if you appeared as lowly as you knew you were to them. The entrance to the dinner were a spectacle for the media, and you would make sure the public saw you, simple, plain, a nobody going to the last super in a sacrificial gown.

By 5pm you were in your most plain white dress, with very little design on the hems. The jewelry is silver chains that weight a ton. Small silver loops in your ears. You dare not ware any bracelets to dinner less you make excessive noise. And you wear your flattest shoes. It’s an insult you know, to wear white in the presence of the Emperor, but it reminds you of your home, and the snowy white glaciers that sing. And you would remind them. Remind them all that there are places that shine brighter than their black holes would devour. You wear no lipstick, your face is touched up, the eye shadow also painted in the brightest white of your home. With just the lightest dusting of glitter to mimic the glittering icy tundra.

The palace on Corusant is multiple buildings, and you are forced to walk from the farthest guest wings of the left building. Towards the central palace. You knew you were noticed by the few journalists allowed in the public space. The flashes of their camera lights blinding your peripherals. But you keep walking, up the steps into the central palace, where you know the Emperor lives. A small bright white light against a grey building.

The halls of the ballroom last night have nothing to the central palace. There is history here, as long as the Jedi have been in existence, so did the republic stand in these very halls. The walls creak and groan with the memories of terror. The warm brown hues your father spoke of are sterilized and monotone. Troopers line the walls you walk through. When you reach the main door you have mustered what authority you can present in the space of such immense power over you.

“I was invited to dinner by the Emperor, might I request a guide to the dining hall?”

The guard waves over a trooper and you are allowed through the double doors, following the only other white dressed being in these dark grim halls. It’s almost 5:20, ten minutes before the meal is served, when you reach the chamber, and the guard opens the door for you to enter.

All eye’s are on you the moment the door opens. There are Admirals, and inner rim nobility, dressed down in their darkest colors. You stick out like a sore thumb in white. But you refuse to be cowed. Plastering on your best smile, you take a few steps towards the group of twenty men.

“I apologize, the sights of the city were just too beautiful to take in with haste.”

There is silence. Then the clack of boots cut through the air as a Chiss man who had been settled by the farthest pillar of the dining hall. He is also dressed in white fatigues on the left side of his chest rests a rank badge of Grand Admiral, newly minted it would seem. When he is close enough you look him in his blood red eyes. The other admirals turn away from the two of you, leaving you with the only other outlier in the room. He takes your offered hand and placing a chaste kiss to the back of it. “And here I worried I would have no one to talk to this evening. Tell me, Your Majesty, how do you find the architecture of noble Corusant?

Its downhill from there, you and Admiral Thrawn spend the last ten minutes gushing over the craftmanship of the wielded metals and spires in central palace. The blend of form and function on a planet that is one whole city. Before the Emperor enters, you’re invited to join him on a trip to the art exhibition in the available break time tomorrow. And you agree.

The Emperor walks in with little grace and remains covered and you wonder what kind of appearance he must keep himself covered in such dark robes. Behind him is Darth Vader and the chill you felt before returns, and everyone around you seems to dim in their presence. Yet you’re reminded once more of your home and feel invigorated.

Ash you all are bowed in respect. The speech is given and when finished everyone takes their seats. You want to wait for the others to settle into their seats but apparently Thrawn is having none of it. After the Emperor takes his place, he sits you next to him on his right, displacing another admiral and you are seated after the Emperor.

“What kind of man would I be if I were discourteous to a lady such as yourself?” He speaks. The Emperor cackles in a cracked and cruel way at his words and Vader say nothing. So, you opt for thanking the Chiss for his gallantry. It’s quite the spectacle, the pair of you make in your white clothing in the face of the void. But you cannot help but feel empowered by your choice. Knowing you’re not alone.

Dinner overall is a tense but expected affair. You take your ques from the men around you when you do not know which utensils to use or what glass to drink from. Your polite with the others when they ask you questions, and you make sure to sprinkle in a modest amount of imperial praise as the night goes on. The emperor only speaks to those close enough to him, and never moves or addresses you. Nor does Vader make any motion to eat anything or insert himself into conversation.

You manage the meal with no disrespect on your part, and as far as anyone in the room is aware you and the planet you represent, while modest ice sellers and timber workers, are loyal to the empire.

Thrawn once more assists you out of you chair and even offers an arm as you all make your way to the ballroom. Following the Emperor and his Lord to yet the second dance.

The grand ballroom is situated between the grand palace and where you’re staying. The gardens behind it all. And the garish light of the faux day almost burns your sight after walking in the dusk filled halls. And you remain on Thrawn’s arm making small talk on the interior designs of the palace and at one point you share the common specifics of your home worlds: Your cold taiga planet with glaciers for water, and evergreen forests, and his home of Rentor, the center of the Chiss Ascendancy within the frozen planet. And you are delighted to learn that his home shares in the ice trades of your home on the other side of the galaxy, trades that are secured with military installations on the Ascendency’s planets to train Imperial soldiers.

The evening proceeds around 7pm, when more people trickle in from their dinners, joining yourself, the twenty some odd Generals, Grand Admirals, Lord Vader, and the Emperor in the ballroom. Each one bowing before the Emperor before they go and mingle. You feel like you should have entered with them. You are no admiral or admiral’s wife. You’re not a part of the upper class nor do you ever wish to be treated in such a way.

But Thrawn has all but kept you by his side this evening, and you cannot escape his grasp so openly as more soldiers and captains come to you both and Congratulate Thrawn on his promotion. As the hours go and the dances grow larger, and the music starts swelling. The only thing you can be thankful for this night is your legs are spared the beatings of clumsy captains as you are twirled and put-on display by the Chiss man as the pair of you start to dance.

Even in the bright glow of this ball. The two of you -the only ones dressed in the brightest white you note- seem to become a swirling stellar collision in the darkness of space, the room glowing radiantly in your impact. Your feet pace the tiled floor to the beat of the faster songs until at the highest crescendo you are dipped with a flair as the song ends. When he pulls you upright you are flushed, and the applause is loud. It’s only after the song is over that you realize you and Thrawn were the only ones on the dance floor, the rest having left the court for the edges at the display of agility and grace.

“An ever-impressive display of your capabilities. Admiral.” The emperor remarked. And as your chest heaved more as your mind and body reconnected with each other you barely could protect your reaction when the emperor spoke directly to you. “I do hope you’re not too winded by my admiral’s vigor.”

You wanted to wince, to growl, to spit in the emperor’s face for implanting such a lewd thought. Was it really too much to add “in dancing” to the end of that sentence? But you held onto your mask, “Compared to other dances I’ve engaged in, your Eminence, I am revitalized.” For extra whipped topping you glanced up into the red eyes of your dance partner. “By far the best dance I’ve had yet.”

The emperor cackled again, and you and Thrawn bowed lightly, leaving the dance floor so everyone else could enjoy the night. You appeared delighted by the dance. And for all intents and purposes it would have benefited your planet greatly if you sealed the deal with a marriage with Thrawn with the Emperor’s blessing.

And yet you wanted to gag. Your heart was aching painfully. And you were dizzy with all the spinning lies. You were nothing but a puppet to these men. A doll to make dance on their whim. A nobody wearing the wrong colors begging for scraps for your planet. You would dance and speak to their pleasure, give your body up so your home was not invaded by their military, marry lovelessly. It’s expected.

It’s revolting.

So, you pardon yourself from the presence of Thrawn, while another group of human commanders come to make their irritation known in basic praises. When you have walked far enough away from everyone and everything, you run. You run from the black holes wanting to pull you into their games. Run from the other bright star in the galaxy that wants to destroy you for personal delights. Run from the Emperor’s echoing cackles at the entertaining dancing dolls of his empire.

You’re in the same garden from before, the black marble bench exactly where it was before, large enough a person could sleep on it. The fountain bubbling in the center. And you kneel before the running water, holding onto the black basin. Grounding yourself from the heaving breaths. The moon’s casting everything in that softly light blue. The city beyond is still bustling but it’s distant white noise to you. The music echo’s mockingly down the halls.

The cold creeps in.

You feel Vader’s hand on your shoulder once more. You do not shiver or shake from his touch. You’re calmed by it. It’s heavy, you feel the grip of metal that reminds you of your mother’s prosthetic hand under the leather. Your breathing calms too, matching the steady respiration from his vocoder.

The silence is welcoming.

When you feel like you can breathe on your own, and the world is not collapsing on you from your own disgust. Vader’s hand leaves. You lean back, still kneeling on the ground before the fountain. You dare not turn around. Less you appear weaker than you already are.

“I expected you to run last night.” He finally speaks.

And you gawf. It’s inappropriate, it’s not the laughter of a lady but a bawdy tavern keeper. But here, with him you feel exposed and honest. You start to lean back from the fountain, setting your hands in your lap. Still facing away from him. “There is nowhere I could run from you. Besides, I never want to be set against you, with your reputation alone you rival the Mandolorians in battle prowess.”

There’s a beat of silence “It’s the suit is it not?”

You don’t stop your smile, and you tilt your head back, resting your head against his thigh, and you notice his head is all but tucked into his chest looking down at you. With his hands on his belt like a father. What a sight you two must make. And you giggle at the image.

His hand moves and you feel yourself lifted from the ground. His power in the Force. It feels like a comforting grasp of a mother carrying her babe. By the time you’re set on your legs again, you’re spirit is settled. You could put that spiteful mask on. But you don’t.

“Why did you send guards when I left the palace today?” You’re blunt. It’s rude. And you don’t give a kriff.

“You were invited here on the Emperor’s orders, every dignitary under that invitation is afforded a guard as they travel the planet.” He replies.

“Liar.” Its out before you can stop it. And you feel his hand grasp your throat. Not cutting off any air but making the threat very clear.

“Pray tell, your Highness. How am I a liar?” He speaks low. Tilting your head back so you bare more of your neck to him. Yet you stare into the transparasteel visor with a knowing grin.

“You delegated security to Admiral Bethrogg long before the event started.” You replied. “You’re the emperor’s best guard and have remained by his side most of the time here, I am nothing more than a Mid-Rim representative unworthy of the security and invitations place on me today,” your smile started to turn down, and a low growl infected your voice. “and if you do not get your hand off my throat you will have to explain to my family why their heir and dignitary was murdered for no good reason.”

You feel the grip on your neck shift up. No longer threatening your life, Vader holds your chin. The thumb primed go into your mouth and the index primed to rip into the soft muscle of your tongue. He could rip your jaw out in your next words and all that knowledge does is give you strength. “Your thoughts on my captains and other officers in the empire say treason.”

“As do your own.” You rebound. You remember every single word he said last night. “Even if you kill me here and get my family to acquiesce to a deal without me. You share my distaste for imperial bullshit.” You slap his hand away from you and he let you. “You share my disgust with inept commanders, and paranoid kings. Even if we do nothing against the system, we share a common irritant.”

You brush your dress of imagined grass blades and walk past the dark lord. “Have a pleasant evening Lord Vader.”

Your arm is grabbed, turned on a heel, and pulled to his chest with a small oof. The arm that grabbed you moves to grab you hand, nearly breaking the delicate bones. The other grips into your hips bruising your skin. If anyone were to look at you from your back, you would hold the appearance of a damsel being held down into a dance by tendrils of shadow, but all you feel are the two gloved hands that hold you too hard.

“Let go.” You hiss.

“Make me.” He hisses back. 

Before you can speak your mind. He crowds against you, forcing you to step back. You twist, and he follows you. And it’s this battle between you. You hear the string instruments pick up the pace and you find yourself moving to the tune. It’s a give and take this time around. You lead Vader in this dance, but mostly he’s guiding you. You roll your hips as you swing a leg backward encouraging the hand on your hip to loosen up it’s grip. At one point you step to the edge of the fountain and he keeps pace as you walk the dangerous edge. You’ve freed yourself from one hand for about half a second before the music shifts, and Vader pulls you back down from the black water’s edge into his grasp once more. Your hand still in his, but that’s all there is. He does not return the hand that had held your hip back, respecting your fight. With one hand left, you focus on free yourself fully. Every attempt to make a twirl he blocks you. Every chance to escape the last hold he has on you, you take. Until the music swells and you finally spin, too fast, you fall out of his grasp. Fearing the impact of the ground.

Until the hand that hand been grasping your hips harshly, hovers over your chest, and you feel this power holding you up. Your arms are splayed wide, toes pointed in a dip. Your back arched deeply. You neck bared for him. It’s nothing like the close dip in the Ballroom with Thrawn. It’s much more dramatic, more intimate. He’s not even touching you, and yet you feel yourself being pulled up to stand. And when you’re on your own two legs once more, the hand Thrawn had kissed at dinner is being caressed gently by the dark hand that caught you. The thumb brushing over the same spot as if his touch would erase the Chiss’s presence.

Your breath is hard once more, but you’re not frightened or sickened. There are no forced words of gratitude leaving your lips. No cruel cackling and sympathetic stares. Your heart stutters violently when the hand he’s been holding is brought slowly to his mask. In a mimicry of the kiss your received earlier in the day.

The sweetest touch from death.

When you do leave the garden it’s with a lighter heart and a found sense of resolve. You would make yourself someone to be respected here. You would get your planet the protection and trades it needs to survive in the new galactic order. And you sleep knowing tomorrow you had more chances than ever to do what you needed for you home.

You fall asleep around 2 in the morning. Doomed to another busy day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and put more kudos in the comments: I'm a validation whore and comments give me L I F E!


	3. Death in your Sights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Art date turns into something more. Something heated. Something Dangerous.  
> And it has to do with creatures beyond your control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, lunch date with Thrawn as teased in the last chapter! There is more dialogue and political talk, and more pressures hitting from many sides. And some small revelations.
> 
> I have no musical recommendation than some hour long piano music. nothing bombastic. perhaps Chopin!

The day begins like the one before. As your eye’s flutter open and the warm lights of Coruscant caress your skin, you cannot help but feel a renewal. A new resolve. The weight on your shoulders from the fear of your home is easier. The dark rings under you’re eyes have seemly diminished. The last remnants of sleep glide from your body, rather then hugging you tightly, beseeching you to return to the comforts of satins and gossamer fluff.

The introductory days are over.

From here on out, you and every other planet would be fighting, contending, negotiating, haggling, and solidifying deals, alliances, and potentially marriages. There would be metaphorical blood spilled in the coming days as the empire gathers every available vulnerability and resource it can from every attendee. Politeness would be lost if you were not careful. Your home under invasion orders at the worst. The only good thing that may come from this whole thing was a business deal with some protection for imperial shipments, and that would be fine.

The less the empire knew of your planet’s Ionite deposits the better. Azurite could be traded no problem since it could be used harmlessly in décor and painting supplies. Gold was abundant. The Iron was only valuable to your people until the empire needed it. The timber industry could grow but the renewable supply would take ages to regrow if such operations were to expand to the rest of the galaxy. Even the water in the ice was only valuable on nearby desert planets. Other ores were either vital to the planet itself or were not in large enough quantities to consider up for trades.

And what little Agrocite your home world held was too invaluable to part with.

These thoughts swirled around in your head as you dined with your peers in the morning, the jovial feelings of camaraderie muted with the growing dread of the coming drainage of assets and unbalanced accords. Whatever came in the end, the mid-outer rim boarding planets had agreed to work with their local clusters on securing trade routes between the regions.

Your home Roche would be the midpoint between Mandolore, Yavin-4, Kashyyyk, and Centares as the larger points of the local cluster protection. Any planet within those four points were welcome to pool resources with your own to increase defenses without the empire. Dulathia’s representative Connix welcomed the efforts. As did the representatives of Kijimi, Saleucami, Thisspias, and Akiva. Agreeing to resolve the details on what each planet could deliver and the operating cost of such ventures. In later days and after the caucus was over.

It was a start.

What was morning presentations on the might of the empire yesterday. Became the logistics and expectations of each new planet that enlisted into the empire. At minimum, each planet that agreed to the basic enlistment, would be required to build and house Imperial soldiers in a Forward Operation Base. With a naval dockyard, barracks, and a main operating base, to Imperial Code. Built with local resources with reimbursement for construction and labor costs. In return the empire would patrol the more populated routes for pirates and -under the direction by the chain of imperial command- may provide supply run protections for imperial goods. For a fee of course.

The alternative was to be labeled an enemy of the empire, even if the planet was a long-standing Neutral power since the age of the old republic. And at least be forced to endure routine probes for potential traitors or harboring rebels. At worst, have the minimum requirements from the empire at the full cost from the planet and upheaval of the planetwide political structure through annexation and assimilation.

Any agreements beyond the one just explained depended on the planet itself, the bargaining power of said planet, and would have to be approved by higher officials or even the Emperor himself if it was deemed essential. The only times that would be necessary would be major planetary supplies are being considered, the trade routes that could be created were advantageous to the empire, or in the case of marriage to higher empire officials.

It was incredibly antiquated and aristocratic.

A bit disturbing as well

And only solidified the Emperor as a paranoid man in your view.

But you endured. Your parents and the advisory board had already planned for the basic installation. The only thing to guarantee was that Roche remained as autonomous as it could within the empire. And that anyone caught in criminal acts would be tried and sentenced by the local courts of Roche before the empire even intervened. The empire was quite cruel in their courts, and sentences were often harsher than they needed to be. And your home world made efforts for Reformation and addressing the issues of the criminal’s environment before harsher sentencing. That’s where you were having issues.

“Quite the absurd demand representative of Roche.” One admiral remarked. “There are high crimes and criminals in that region of space that must be corrected by the Imperial courts. We cannot allow leeway in this.”

“To allow any thief leeway because of their nationality is just biased!” Another said. Never mind you never brought up the hypothetical criminal status as a local or not….Just the region of space your planet designated as the local territory of legislative processes. You were proud of your self for not quipping back about the empire own biases against non-humans.

“There’s very little one can do for traitors and criminals My Dear.” Nope, Nope, _nope._ You walked away from that general and made sure to take his name so any further problems with him could be recorded and possibly have him downgraded to grunt or better yet investigated for enjoying other people’s torment.

You left the morning deliberations early. For all intents and purposes, you were ready for tiffin and to depart this location. Changing from your business attire to a lighter blue outfit and pearl earrings. Letting your staff know you would return for dinner but be away from their reach, on a tour of the art museum.

You decided while the deliberations continued you would make your way to the central hub and meet Thrawn at the exhibition. But your mind had grown progressively more apprehensive with each attempt to negotiate your planet’s rights and resources. That when you came to your senses you were in the garden with the black marble benches and central fountain.

It was so odd to see this place in the daylight.

Yes, you knew there were hedge bushes that were kept trimmed, but they bloomed in the day! The brightest red and purple flowers you ever did see! There were archways covered in red and pink bougainvilleas, the closest plants to your bench were blended red azaleas and purple hydrangeas their branches intertwined. And in a few entrenched areas of the fountain’s basin were vases filled with Malva’s and white chrysanthemum’s. It was vibrant and brash color choices for such a gloomy empire.

To think you had been dancing in such splendor in secret!

“Your Highness?”

You spooked. Jumping as your body twisted to the voice that had addressed you. You face still in the grips of awe as you finally registered the man that had found you.

“Grand Admiral!” You smiled softly, recalling the way you left him last night and the possible insult you gave at that. You would have a lot of clarifying and mending to do if he was insulted with your abandonment. “How are you this day?” You asked, attempting to build your social mask up.

“I am well, your Highness.” He took steps toward you and you had to remind yourself not to step back, less you show fragility and anxiety. His hand gestures slowly to the flowers that surrounded you both “Quite Beautiful.” He spoke softly, his gaze never breaking from your own.

“I will admit The Emperor has quite the eye for arrangements.”

You nod. There’s something unspoken here, some silent tension that goes beyond the physical closeness. “I had thought the emperor would have chosen darker colors like black dahlias or Boragos”

“Yes, an appropriate assumption giving the Emperor’s proclivities with power.” He finally broke the eye contact. Walking towards the closest pottery with the largest chrysanthemum blossoms within. You lingered in your spot. Watching his hand graze over the delicate petals. “There is however a precedent when born into a world where strength is abundant, and beauty is limited.” You watched as he plucked one from its stem, even if it were the greatest among the bunch it still seemed small in his dark blue hands.

He would not elaborate until you asked, you realized. “In a world that values strength as it’s beauty, there would be no precedent required.”

He smiled gently. “Quite, and yet here we stand. Surrounded by strength with little care for anything else. Not even the beauty in such displays of physical prowess.” It only took two steps before he was standing before you once more. The blossom in hand.

“In such an absence of examples for Strength to follow, what would function as support for such motivations?” This just got more metaphorical. His eyes caught your own as he carefully weaved the stem of the plant in your house seal broach. The flower covering it entirely, the white of the blossom standing out even against the pale blue dress you wore. Careful to never touch your skin.

“Strength is only effective when guided by beauty that calls for it’s defense.” He replied smoothly, his hand that had caressed the petals gently was grazing the underside of your chin. Encouraging you to lock gazes once more. “The Empire is strength incarnate, and yet it is nothing without planets such as Roche calling for its aid.”

And there it was. The whole reason this farce was even allowed in the first place. Planets merging together to increase their own strength against any opposing force. Overpowering the last system of parliament. And yet, the Empire lasts if there is no opposing force uniting together in the same manner as it did. A never-ending life cycle of Government powers. No matter what you did, Roche would be the precedent for threats unless it bowed to the Imperial Armies and its Emperor Palpatine.

“But I’m sure you’ve had enough of lectures of might and what the Empire could do for your home.” Thrawn remarked, turning marginally to the entrance to the garden, Offering his arm to you. “Come, I know a restaurant on our way to the Art Exhibition. These meetings can be quite draining.”

You did not refuse. You couldn’t really. He had all but pinned your predicaments in simple terms. You would have to bend and bow to the empire. That was a certainty. How much you bowed or if you broke before the weeks end was a matter of debate. Your arm looping in his own, you let him guide you away from the vibrant garden of red. Keeping your mind aware of any little resource or information you knew you could barter with. Walking out of the place walls to the city beyond.

Unaware of the shadow that watched from above, and the hushed orders he gave.

~~~

The restaurant itself is a warm inviting building that caters to the upper crest of society. You are guided to a corner table next to a trellis filled with pink mandevilla flowers climbing up to the rustic wood patio roof to drape down over the diners below. The bottom of the trellis’ surrounded in bright yellow marigolds. And on each table in an artisan’s vase held a small gathering of sweet alyssum in contrasting violet hues.

You were wondering if the waiter would ever take your order, but you didn’t wish to bring attention to yourself or your current date.

“You seem confused, your Highness.” Thrawn’s voice cuts through your wondering eye. “If you’re curious about our meal, this establishment requires pre-ordering during reservations. I apologize for not considering your opinion on such matters.”

Your mouth opened in a miniature “o”. Settling into your seat to participate in the conversation he was obviously anticipating. “Apology accepted Grand Admiral. May I inquire the planetary inspirations for our dishes?”

“I had intended to order based on heavily Aquatic planets, But I figured you would be just as homesick and heated as I and settled on the glacier varieties.” He paused. And you no doubt looked a little apprehensive. “There are very few noble houses that retain the colder colors of their homes, especially for high stake events such as this. It was a bold move to wear white last night before the emperor. A sentiment I admire.”

The waiter was coming with the appetizers, and you both quieted which eating the first course. A simple tundra lichen soup and water. He was right, you were homesick. And whilst it wasn’t anything from your planet specifically it was close enough to the soups you would have with your mother during the frozen months. But you would have to wait a moment for it to cool down.

So, you decided to talk casually on the night before. You tried to calm your snickers into something more appropriate, small, unobtrusive at his observations. “I’m flattered you think so.” You grabbed the glass of water and drank from it, buying yourself time to collect yourself. “Nearly threw my workers into a tizzy thinking it would be offensive to wear such colors.”

“And yet you hold pride in your home, for what your people have done for the galaxy prior to the Empire’s reign.”

“Just as the Emperor takes pride in his own domain I assume. Else he would not take much stock in the uniform designs or allow individuals to deviate from the standards.”

You manners remained impeccable. When the steam from the dishes was minimal, you sprinkled one for the offered crackers into the dish, care was taken with the dark green soup. The spoon never full enough to drip incessantly and you tried hard to remember to scoop away from you rather than towards you as was the inclination to do. Adding a crumbling cracker to the soup as you ate. And when you finished you set the spoon on the dish below the bowl.

When the server returned to take your dishes away you were left once more with an opportunity to continue conversation. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s eyes narrowed, knowingly. “I am afforded some leeway in the small matters. With the Emperor’s blessings of course.”

Your heart stuttered and you dared to hope and held onto fear. “You’re people must have traded much for you to have such sway within the empire.”

“Ah I must clarify. It was not my people that sent me, I am…: He sighed wistfully “Exiled by choice. The Ascendency is quite opposed to working with others, yet I know the Empire would be too large to ignore. I traded my life in full service to the Empire, in exchange for some regional information and protection for my people.”

You didn’t get the ability to respond to such revelations. The main course came in. Sizzling Kod'yok steaks with garlic butter and rosemary sprigs. Paired with a pinot noir wine from Naboo. It was absolutely tempting to rip into the meat like the slow roasts with your bear hands, so you lingered just a hair longer to see how Thrawn would go about this. When he reached for the silverware your training came in: lesser cuts into the meat, don’t dip the pieces in the sauce dribble it over the meat prior to cutting. The same X shape with the fork over the knife to indicate your completion.

No one on Coruscant wanted to get their fingers dirty apparently.

“That’s incredibly tragic, to willfully leave your home with little hope or intention to return.” You answered his tale after the waiter returned, clearing the table for the dessert.

“I do not consider it so sorrowful. The empire get’s their information, my people are afforded protection in the empire, my position is respected despite some open xenophobia.” He shrugged lightly. But then his gaze went sharp. “Your position is not unlike my own all those years ago.”

You stiffened. Nervous, yet curious. “In what regards?”

“Secrets.” He stated simply. “But that is not appropriate discussion over lunch.” The waiter returned with one plate, that was placed before you. “Do enjoy dessert, I’m not one for sugary treats.”

You looked at the gelatin dessert that had been cut and formed into the shape of the agocite ores. You figured he ordered it to assess your reaction to it’s appearance. So, without concern you snatched the only offered spoon and chipped away at the trap. Tasting the tang of blueberries and the sweetness of blackberries. Make certain to smile after the first bite just to try and thrown him off the agrocite scent.

When you finished, you looked him in his bloody eye’s, smiled softly, and spoke “It’s been some time since I’ve eaten artwork.” Sipping on the final morsel of water in your glass as the waiter returned for the plate. “Reminds me of the carved sugar sculptures back home.” Nodding quickly to the waiter to pass the missive of the enjoyed meal back to the cooks.

Thrawn for the most part looked uninterested. If not for his sharp gaze watching your response you would have thought your ruse succeeded. “Delightful. Shall we depart?”

Since the meal was ordered ahead of time it was paid ahead of time as well. So, you were off in the speeder towards the museum in no time at all. It doesn’t surprise you to see two troopers flanking your vehicle, recognizing the one on your side with a familiar black pauldron. Yet Thrawn seems thrilled.

“How predictable.” He muttered softly.

You decided not to comment on it.

The traffic was barely noticeable, and you arrived with the Grand Admiral outside the Coruscanti Art museum. A Large seemly unadorned structure styled similarly to the old Jedi Temple, with Holo adverts displaying the main attraction: Change.

The captain dismounted his speeder and opened the door for you. But Thrawn was quick to your side. There was something going on between Vader and Thrawn and you grew more concerned in the potential fallout with your involvement. Keeping your facial expression as neutral as you could.

“I will have to Thank Lord Vader for considering our protection.” Thrawn remarked.

“We can send the word along Grand Admrial.” The captain replied. Nodding his helm towards you “Your Highness.”

“Captain.” You nodded back.

With that you and Thrawn walked up to the entrance of the building.

What was a plain and unassuming building on the outside. Inside was a collage of color enclosed in displays. What surprised you most was-

“Quite empty for an art exhibition?”

“Unfortunately, during this lovely exhibition, the building has been reserved for dignitaries like yourself to tour at your leisure. I had hope to discuss the stroke techniques of acrylics verses Naboonian oils with other collectors.” He glanced down and shared a smile. “But there is something to be said for discussions of beauty and the piece as a whole.”

“Careful Grand Admiral, I’m sure I could teach you something on technique if they have wood carvings or ice sculptures present here.”

Apparently, they did! After studying the brief on the subject and the various collectors and artists that submitted pieces into the exhibit. You began to explore. It was a galaxy wide assemblage. The second room was closed off with the intention of keepin the room freezing enough for the sculptures within. You probably spent an hour describing the devices and methods you knew of local artists from Roche. The combination of chisel, torch, even mathematics to ensure that as the sculpture melted in the heat it would create a new piece on it’s own time.

You kept the enjoyment of the cold to yourself but noticed even Thrawn looked marginally more comfortable in the glacial temperature room.

“It’s a shame Coruscant keeps these frozen, They’re meant to withier in time to something new. See these lines here, the fissures are water paths, this line going through the heart usually indicates the second or third inner work will form a tree or glacier spire, if it ran horizontally through the center it would become an beast.”

“Fascinating, are there no permanent works of art on your world?”

“Not unless you wanted to break traditions, even the wood carvers place their first work in a larger sculpture that’s been hollowed out. There is no staining done to aid in preservation. Stone artists leave their works out in the elements. Even the bronze works don’t get scrubbed of rust and oxidation. There are master craftsmen that take into consideration the passage of time and plan their artwork accordingly.”

“An ever-evolving artwork, rarely immortalized. Do your people not believe in legacy?”

“We do, we just choose to immortalize lecacy through teaching’s and betterment of our situation. The generations that come after us have more say in how our present time is remembered. We may place the first mark, but everyone eventually adds to the new work. Based on what they were taught and what they figure out for themselves.” You explained.

“Impressive.”

The two of you left the large frozen displays for large landscape, rolling fields with storm clouds on the horizon was the common theme.

“I’m a little disappointed in these artists…” you muttered.

“How so?”

“Each one of these landscapes holds a storm as a threat, darkness in the distance. There’s no hope, no calm after the storm.”

Thrawn made a noncommittal noise. And walked on. And you followed shortly behind.

Soon you both came to the main attraction the largest painting. A large angel casting a judgmental glare down on two fleeing figures in shadows, the light filtering through a kaleidoscope of crystal forests. You didn’t bother stepping any closer to the massive piece that obscured the entire wall. Sitting down on the bench provided. Thrawn standing behind you.

The two of you remained that way in silence. Simply absorbing the visuals as the soft melodic sound of the music chimed softly above through speakers.

“Banishment,” You whispered. “A fitting title.”

“Agreed.”

You just couldn’t take your eyes off the two figures. You couldn’t. After some time, you ventured closer, reducing your view to the two figures. You started noticing the painter had placed actual gemstones in the now dry work. To add the glitter effect and add value no doubt. You stopped right at the edge of the allowed space, roped off to prevent people from stealing what they could. You took in the smaller view and tightened your focus point. Something you couldn’t see from your point of view.

So, at the risk of embarrassment and potential criminal action, you knelt, rolled onto your back, and scooched closer to the wall, just below the rope. You didn’t trigger anything, and since no guards came in at your action you bet Thrawn had said something to the curator.

But it was worth it. 

“Thrawn, They’re smiling.” You grinned.

“What would make you say that your highness?” He must have followed you wanting to see what you were seeing no doubt, so you gestured to the floor beside you.

“Lay beside me and look up at the two shadows,” You thought he wouldn’t do a thing, yet he surprised you acquiescing and probably dirtying his suit as you did your dress. “I was wondering why the two figures being banished had no glamor to them. I assumed it was because they were expelled and there was some aspect of the world that eliminated such radiance, but that seem too obvious. But look at their faces.”

There hidden among layers of paint, were eye’s sapphire and emeralds, and onyx. Hidden unless you looked from beneath the work itself. Pearls acting as teeth were crooked into a smile. Hands were clasped with each other, not curled around themselves. The judging angel was bland while you laid on your back. The crystal forests and flowers dulled and muted. You kept pointing at everything you could see, every new revelation that had been hidden by the artists. Who no doubt knew the security would prevent such a viewpoint.

“Hope in the face of such loss.” You whispered. You head turning to see if Thrawn was taking in everything you had found. Yet he had been watching you, and you are alone.

“You’re lucky I was here to calm the guards.” He smiled cheekily. “You surprise me, your Highness.”

You blushed. Sitting up. Bracing a hand so you could look down at the Chiss who did not appear to take his gaze off of you. If you were younger you would have believed him to be love-struck. But there was a twist in your gut. Something off about his stare.

“In what way?”

At that he sat up. Mirroring himself physically with you. The hand not bracing his body caressed your cheek.

“So many secrets, and so much hope.” The hand was distracting, it was so cold against your heated face, moving slowly until it was cupping your head. Strands of your hair getting caught in his fingers. His face was leaning closer to yours and you felt the warm breath on your lips. “I wonder how much you’ll tell me, and how much I will learn from you.”

This was going to fast, he was getting closer, your body was trembling with excitement? Fear? There was just too much to process. Secrets? Did he mean you planet’s resources, your personal life? His gaze was lidded, inescapable.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn!”

You pulled away sharply at the voice of the captain, that was jogging across the room. Standing to attention and saluting. By the time the captain spoke, you were on your feet, brushing away the dust that surely was collected in your skirt. Thrawn was standing with a smirk plastered across his face.

“You’ve been summoned back to the Palace.” The captain spoke, standing still as the sculptures you first explored.

“By the Emperor?”

“Lord Vader.” The captain replied curtly.

“Ah well. We mustn’t keep him waiting. Shall we return to our duty’s your highness? I have no doubt if you wanted to continue viewing the art you could.”

“I think I shall stay a while. Thank you, Grand Admiral.” You replied, just as short and clipped. The threat of that kiss still hovering over your mind like a noose.

“So be it. I shall return post haste Captain.” Thrawn replied, his hands clasped behind his back. Walking away from you and the captain that remained.

You were breathing too intensely. That should not have transpired. You should not have been that close or so compromised. If it had been anyone else but the Captain that saw, you -A journalist or gossipy cleaner- Roche reputation would have been damaged. Grand Admiral’s Thrawn’s respect would have plummeted in the empire. You were too close to disaster.

“You’re highness?”

You jumped; the trooper watched you from beneath that helmet. You couldn’t tolerate it long. “Remove your helmet please.”

The trooper became as stiff as you. But he obeyed. You were expecting a youthful soldier. You were looking at an older man. Peppered hair, brown eyes.

“What’s your code soldier?”

“CC-1119 your highness.” He replied. His brown eyes just as expressive as your own.

“What is the likelihood of what you saw being reported to Lord Vader?”

He winced. Lips curling inward. His head dipping just a moment before straightening once more. If he only had the helmet on you would have been questioning if his reaction was legitimate or if you imagined it…

You were so screwed when you returned.

~~~

You stayed in the art museum another hour with the captain by your side. Listening as you rambled on about the sculptures you passed and what you knew of the craft. The captain for the most part staying silent. But he kept his helmet off. A choice you returned to him after your short panic attack. You watched the trooper analyze the work before you both. And you realized something startling.

Thrawn wasn’t gazing at you all day. He was analyzing you. Observing you for weaknesses, corollaries. You probably gave your entire history of your planet away with your explaining of techniques, your comments on all the artwork you viewed together, and behavior at lunch.

Foolish, silly, irresponsible!

You had been corralled to giving evidence away.

And that realization hurt.

For a day you thought he was different. Candid. Wanting improvement for his empire. And he probably did to a extent. But it was most likely nowhere near your hopes and dreams.

When you announced your wish to return to your rooms back at the palace. To prepare for the dreaded third gala. The captain replaced his helmet and summoned a new speeder for you to return in.

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening you stayed in your room, barricaded yourself in the refresher. Your workers all worried for you. You were nauseous. You wouldn’t make it to the ball. Your head was spinning with what if’s and how the hell did you fix this? You didn’t even know what Thrawn had gleaned from you through the day. Apparently, a trooper had been sent to investigate your absence and your eldest worker, bless them, created an excuse on you becoming ill after your trip, most likely bad food from beyond in the city.

You really needed to give them a raise.

So, you switched from the light blue dress into the darkest green nightgown you had and laid in bed. Letting the evening happen, the night rising with the moon. A meager slice of bread as your supper. And after everyone you knew were either too drunk or already asleep. The music fading to silence. You left your room. Barefoot and scantily dressed. A fur shall your only protection from the chill.

You walked the darkened hallways of the building, dodging patrols by hiding behind the pillars. You thought you were wondering without direction. And yet your toes felt the cold caress of grass blades and stone. You heard the bubbling of water.

The garden.

Would you always come back here for clarity? Calm? You didn’t hear his breath, didn’t feel his cold grasp. But you felt eye’s scrutinize you. There were too many dark places here. Too many secrets. And yet…yet there was beauty here too. Hidden away from the world. And you wondered if there was ever a chance for you to escape such a dismal place. Let the beauty flourish.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?”

You squealed. “Lord Vader!” Your heart was racing. Your hands holding the fur close. Death was here for you. “I-“

His helm tilted, staying still. Motionless. His fists were clasped closed. There was anger in his voice. You had to remind yourself that going out with Thrawn to public events was not illegal. It was not a crime. Sure, there would probably be questions. And then you thought about it: Thrawn himself said he was exiled _willingly_. Loyalty and strength were the key motivators for the Empire.

You had no strength and were not yet loyal to the empire. Thrawn had Strength, but his loyalty was clearly in question.

“I was surprised by many things today.“ You swallowed harshly. The cold night replaced with oppressive heat that dried your throat. Death stepped closer. Stalling, you needed to know what was on Vader’s mind. “This garden for instance, holds so much magnificence I would not expect in the main palace, yet it seems fitting.” You shuffled a bit, hoping he would stand next to you. But he didn’t stop his advancement towards you. “Much like the Highest officers within, there are aspects of the empire I did not expect to exist.” 

He was standing too close. So, you turned away from him leaving the fountain for some sort of breathing space. “The meetings this morning were the most illuminating-“ death followed your frantic heartbeat through the garden. “-In my negotiations for legal proceedings in Roche space, many of the members I spoke too were resolute about Imperial control over the legislative process.” You were walking into the darkness. Until your back hit stone, and all you could see was black. All you could hear was his respirator. This was not the dances you had shared; this was herding. Then his deep, growling voice penetrated the tension:

“Did you enjoy Thrawn’s attention today?”

You mind stuttered to a halt. You body calming. Your fear all but dissipating at his words. You connected the missing pieces. Thrawn’s humor towards the captain, the fact that Vader sent them to follow you around. Was it really that simple?!

“Are you envious Lord Vader?” you answered back. Here you were terrified you would be interrogated and brutalized for intelligence on Thrawn’s loyalties. And you would have nothing to talk about but ice sculpting and a close kiss.

A hand slammed itself to the wall near you. And you yelped. Your fear coming from the sudden sound itself. Rather than the threat of violence. Strangely you felt like if he wanted to hurt you, he would have done so already. None the less he imprisoned you with his body.

“I am concerned with potential traitors.” His voice was so close. It practically caressed your ears “and people who would take advantage of the Empire and its people.” He replied, the other hand resting on your shoulder with a firm grip. Thumb tracing over your pulse.

You burned at the implications. “Check your racism! Thrawn has been nothing but courteous and cunning for the empires gain.” That damn gemstone dessert flashed through your mind and you shook your head. “Even if there were emotions beyond shared history of service to the empire. He has no interest in me. Your possessiveness is misplaced.”

You felt the hand that had slammed against the wall move to grip your other shoulder “On the contrary your Highness.”

You felt your legs leave the ground as he pulled you up and pinned you against the wall. Your eye’s were staring into his mask at equal heights. Your hands holding his shoulders, the fur shall falling to the ground with a dull thud. You didn’t know what to do with your legs aside from bracing your weight on his bent leg. Not exactly wrapping around his hips. His body close enough to yours you could feel his chest rumble as he spoke. “Any interest harbored for _you_ is of great concern to me.”

You gapped. He stayed silent. But it was different. The tense aggressive silence from him as you rambled on flowers and politics dissipated at his words. And you both were in the middle of processing them. The revelation, the emotion.

Just what kind of Sarlacc pit were you being dragged into?

“Ah Lord Vader, I thought I would find you here. I trust I’m not interrupting anything?”

You felt the baulk physically go through Vader’s body, and you felt the flaming mortification slam into you. Of all the people to find you both like _this_. It wasn’t what it looked like, but that did not matter. You were here now, held up to some extent -intimately- by Lord Vader. It was unbearable. Disastrous. A social death sentence for you.

“No, My Master.” Vader replied curtly, standing taller. Placing you down gradually. Maybe the Emperor couldn’t see you because of his mass darkness? Maybe you could be spared-

“Oh good. I did not wish to send reimbursement to Roche for any harm done to their only heir.” Shit, Kriff, Fuck, Damnit. And all those words you were never allowed to say in every available language in the galaxy. “I do hope my apprentice wasn’t too rough with you?”

Maker Damn him for leaving out vital words. You were just too close to the frayed line of polite civility and snark. “Your Eminence, You apprentice is only as harsh as he needs to be to ensure the security of the empire and those within.” You replied behind Vader’s physique. You only now noticed he had grabbed a part of his cape and held it out slightly. Was he protecting your semi-nude form? Your nightgown was longer and could pass as a light dress if you wanted. But that thought just struct you as sweet, like the flowers that were hiding in this very garden.

“I’m glad. Lord Vader, if you would be so kind to escort your dalliance to their chambers, we have matters to discuss.”

Oh, that manic wrinkled bastard. This was on purpose. There was no reason for the Emperor to go searching for his second. There was no reason for THE EMPEROR to find Vader himself. There were messengers and troopers that could have found you instead. There was more going on that you were privy too, and that needed to be rectified.

A quick nod of acknowledgement from Vader and you were gone. Pulled from the garden and away from the emperor without a chance to clap back as you wanted too. Probably for the better. Your legs burning to keep pace with his larger steps. And only after you were pulled through the main corridors did he slow down. Letting you catch your breath and collect your thoughts.

It was awful enough to be caught by Vader’s captain almost kissing Thrawn in an empty art museum. It was crueler to be caught in a compromising position with Vader himself in the middle of the night by the Emperor. Thrawn’s loyalty was in serious question, as was yours. And Vader in some twisted manner held concern for you. Why?

“Naivety.” His voice rumbled beside you. Once more answering a thought from your mind.

You huffed. Getting really irritated by every assumption made over the day. “Roche is capable of holding it’s own in legal processions within it’s space. I am perfectly capable of negotiating the trades and alliances therein. And whatever is occurring between yourself and Grand Admiral Thrawn will have nothing more to do with me.”

It took you a moment to realize that he had fallen behind. And you stopped, to look back. Seeing him standing there in the halls. His shoulders were shaking. It shouldn’t have pulled you closer to him, considering his words were just as questionable as Thrawn’s in terms of affection, but you did. You walked back to him. And what you mistook for shudders of pain, were chuckles. Low, dreary, laughter.

“And what is so humorous Lord Vader?” You hissed. Absolutely incensed with secrets and schemes.

“You.”

Your head reared back. And his laughter grew. Spluttering you turned away and stomped. _Stomped_ back to your room. The laughter chasing you down the halls. Just as you reached to key in your code, his leather clad hand grabbed yours. His voice crooning in your ear.

“There is no doubt in your abilities to represent Roche. I hold no doubt in your lack of interest in Thrawn and myself, Or the overreaching power of the Empire.” His hand gripped yours tighter. A long inhale taken as if he wanted to take in your scent before he resumed speaking “Your innocence, however, does not stop hounds from hunting for your hand.”

The door swishes open and you are shoved in with as much grace as a teen caught out later than their parents wanted. You register the feeling of Vader’s force power before the door shuts. Yet the power lingers. Teasing, like the lingering touch from Thrawn. You gesture rudely at the door, and forfeit any comfortable sleep in a bed, for the lounge chair.

You spent the last three hours of the night reflecting on everything you learned today through meditation. Hopefully, you would be able to discern what you revealed with Thrawn, His motivations, Vader’s motivations, and what your response would be.


	4. Riding Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunt is a foot! For answers, for prey, for a sense of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10,805 words.  
> I just couldn't stop or condense anything.  
> I hope y'all enjoy this, Thank you for your patience!!!
> 
> Here is the hour long Wadruna playlist I was listening too: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXPmLE_KELo

Three hours.

Three hours your mind went through anything and everything you did during the day. Three hours you spent pouring over particulars and inquiries asked and the responses you gave and received. Three hours you spent in deep meditation, the only form of sleep you could grab with such a frenzied mind. Coupled with what you managed to get in the afternoon after your outing with Grand Admiral Thrawn, you figured you achieved something close to 5 hours of sleep. And anything was better than nothing.

It was quite possible Thrawn -and by association the Emperor- knew of your planet’s Agrocite stores. But their uses could be directed towards practicality if anyone asked. Artist’s fine melting tools, long term lighting or heating for the community centers during the frozen months. They were expensive and could be demanded, but they were widely used. You were required to keep their genuine use out of Imperial knowledge.

Azurite was already being traded with pigment makers for paints in Naboo and across the galaxy, it would not be challenging to include the Imperial forces in those trades, truthfully their fondness of gray could be mitigated with some shades of blues! Ice and Timber was already slated to be traded in abundance, although their uses within the empire was limited. After all no ships ran on charcoal fires nor could the raw materials be converted into engine fuel.

You shook your head. Materials were not the only thing Thrawn gleaned from you yesterday.

You were hopeful. Knowledgeable. Culturally informed. And naïve as Vader put it. Your planet spent decades avoiding conflict where it could, offering the republic credits, resources, ships, and any volunteers willing to join the Clone Wars. Under your parents rule you had grown up sheltered, protected from the violence. You knew the Clone Wars were a prevailing topic of contention throughout your youth. You had even offered to join the ranks as a soldier when you were old enough to enlist. That was shot down considering you were the only named heir to Roche’s monarchy. And sometimes you wish your planet followed Naboo’s democratic nobility.

But you did not fight against your parent’s denial to enlist for war. You had followed their instructions and shadowed their efforts in the war. You, like every other republic citizen, assigned the fighting to the Jedi, and their clones.

But you had taken initiative in the political sphere. Negotiating bases. Organized shipments of resources to the front lines. Requisitioning supplies. Had contended with your parents and your local parliament on the significance of supporting the Clones in their endeavors against the droid army. Negotiated with farmers to split their crops between their local profits and rations for the war.

Where you were inexperienced in battles and physical fights, strategies in space battles and Troop movements. How to best gather intelligence and take over a planet within weeks. You were a specialist in the social field. Lobbying for a cause and managing entire fleets for aid. You could recognize a viable scientific study to fund.

You were the reason Thyferra and Roche had successfully grown alazhi fungus in the deep cave systems of Roche and other taiga/tundra planets. Spreading the main ingredient to Bacta production to other systems. Saving vital time in treatments. All because you recognized and directly funded the biologist’s theory of Agrocite lighting and heat expansion for effective fungal growth. Keeping that scientist close for longitudinal studies and for silence. You negotiated the trades and rights to grow the lifesaving fungus with the Vartix leadership. Granted Roche had to give up 75% of the profits on Bacta based products like Patches and shots back to Thyferra, but that was more that satisfying for your home which held alternative means of income and trades. Being able to produce Bacta and help people was worth the steep price.

It was Roche’s greatest secret, and part of the arrangement with Thyferra who wished to retain their mono-material trades across the galaxy. Until it was possible for Thyferra to grow their most precious fungus on different environmental planets: Roche was bound to secrecy.

The Emperor finding out about Roche’s deals with Thyferra on the most stringent product in the galaxy was your greatest fear. But you could talk your way out of almost anything if it was found out from him, Thrawn, or Vader.

You just had to hold on for 4 more days.

Today would be an interlude day. A chance to relax before the busiest days and potentially one-on-one negotiations with Imperial Representatives. It was a chance for them to have their prey relax, think over the talks from yesterday have any sway over decisions. You were not so unwise to consider such things. Especially when the main event was a mock show of force.

A fox hunt.

Well not necessarily a fox itself. There were to be all manner of creatures. Some quick and cunning, others massive and dangerous. Organized on the neighboring planet Foerost the lush forests and massive area was converted into a preserve. Animals for most of the year would be privy to peace and natural deaths. But not today.

Today members of the Imperial Navy and officers in it’s command would show their strength and skills in the forests of Foerost. At the very least there were no other sapient species being hunted. You Hoped. You had heard rumors of prisoners of war being killed in such events. And yet you held hope that the emperor would carry more grace than such slaver intimidation tactics.

It surprised your eldest employee -Ester- to find you cross legged on the couch, but she was practical. A hard worker that deserved more than what you were going to give her. Her name kept secret as was tradition for workers of the Roche Monarchs.

“I’m required to being one of my staff on this trip. I wanted to ask you to attend this with me before the other’s woke up.” You spoke softly.

The sweetest lady who had served your mother for so long nodded her head. “I’ve been to the local hunts. seeing animals fall for sport will be of no issue for me.” She shook her head slowly as she gathered your heavy dark Green dress for the day. “It’s a shame they are killed just for sport. Such a waste.” She muttered.

You agreed. Stepping into the little alcove for privacy as you undressed. “Any rumors I should be aware of?”

Ester was a pro at these events. You valued her work and the other servants that performed the daily upkeep that let you focus on making the world better. You knew your family line would be nothing without every worker within the palace and beyond. You had always argued in their favor and ensured they had security, retirements, the lodging, and food was free, with hourly pay for anything they could need for themselves or their families. For your family and beyond there were protections in place for them.

She laced up the back of the shirt with ease that spoke of practice. “There’s been a lot of talk your Highness.” Brushing all the creases from the long shirt before the black skirt was tied on. “Apparently the empires stable enough to allow for more relaxed negotiations.” She pulled the snow-white sash around your waist and set about tying it in the most complex bow she could. “There’s talk among the other staffers on marriages to Imperial officers as a way of ensuring alliances. Since there are enough core and inner rim planets that were a part of the empire from the start, resources are not a great issue just yet.”

You bit your lip. The party's made more sense. Many of the representative’s present were either single or from prestigious family lines like you. With access to greater resources or networks. The Empire was already a feat of power in the galaxy, it would not take a lot to absorb more resources through strategic nuptials. As you thought about it, Roche was a central power among the Perlilmian system. And your father was creating a hyperspace lane with other planets that would bridge the outer rim and core worlds.

“Anyone in particular you would not mind having influence over Roche?” you asked.

She scoffed. “If we were not targeted specifically by the Emperor’s invitation, I’d rather we remain under your family’s rule.” She sighed, fluffing the fabric out for appearances. “But some low captain would be preferable to any Grand Admiral or Lord Vader.”

You twisted your head back as she left to grab some terrain boots, that would be hidden from view by the length of your dress. “Lord Vader?” You laughed. “Is he on the list of Empire’s Most eligible Bachelors?”

“Apparently so!” She replied, pulling out some black boots and waved you over to the seats. Grabbing some thick tight pants for you to wear beneath your dress and knee-high socks. “There’s word around the mats is that commanders are antsy with no line of succession beyond him and the Emperor.” She held your shirts up as you pulled the skintight pants up. Trading jobs as she helped you put on the socks and laced up the boots. “Since major monarchy lead planets like ours try to have three alternatives before calming down. And bless your parents for trying, but I don’t think a sibling is worth the hassle of that drama.” You were glad for it as well, even if your mother didn’t have that emergency hysterectomy, they already had troubles conceiving you. “But there’s a lot of pressure for that new Admiral to marry. Since he’s from the unknown regions and all that.”

You stayed quiet as she continued with other admirals in the line for marriages. Tarkin thankfully was not one of them. The three men you talked too yesterday morning were available, you frowned when she said their names. There was no conceivable way you would marry any of them. The more Ester spoke the more you vowed to remain unbound from the empire in such a manner.

But Thrawn and Vader’s behaviors made more sense now. Even if they don’t marry you explicitly, there were expectations for them to. Vader could probably go on five or more years before councils close to the Emperor got incessant. Thrawn had much more to lose if he did not solidify his loyalties with a marriage. Even if he remained loyal to the empire without marrying a local, his reputation and status would forever be tarnished by questions. No matter how much work he put into the empire. No matter how many victories he had in the Emperor’s name. Loyalty would be questioned by the masses that had to obey his orders.

The only unknown now was the Emperor himself…

You knew him to be a power-hungry man. You heard speculations like everyone else. On his allowance for enslavement of prisoners. Unethical deals with criminal Lords of the outer rim. The plotting and blackmail on some nobles and notable enterprises. Even weapons of mass destruction being constructed. Your father told you stories of Senator Palpatine, and the vast webs of lies and networking in both separatists and Jedi forces. How he had played them all like a master maestro with a concert of controlled chaos and violence. The worst rumors were the immediate death sentences, unfair trials, even against his second in command: his hand was more likely to slap than help.

If Vader were to marry, the emperor would probably have another leverage against his Second to ensure obedience. You were not certain how probable it was should Vader turn against his master if family were of disquiet for him. But from what you knew of both men: Lord Vader would just wait for old age to take the Emperor than risk an unsuccessful coup. If Vader truly wanted out of his master’s heel then a marriage would be a hinderance rather than a help. But if instructed, he probably would do as he was told and marry to satisfy the old man and the courts. No one would bat an eye if he did murder his spouse if rumors of rages and failures were true.

If Thrawn were to marry. The Emperor and other high officials would have less reason to doubt Thrawn’s loyalties. If Thrawn married high enough, his people would have a better chance at avoiding assimilation of culture if the Ascendency were to take Thrawn back after all that work. Whoever he married would also have security in Imperial observance and the Ascendency. And would likely be hailed as a martyr if they were to disappear under mysterious circumstances.

“Your Highness?”

“Hm?” you were lost in thought to have not heard Ester’s questions. But the glare you received was just as bad as your mother’s.

Ester grabbed your head. Her aging hands warm against your cheeks. “I know that look, and I speak for the entire planet of Roche when I say: that I would rather see you marry a ‘traitorous Jedi’ than anyone in the Empire.”

You winced. You grew up believing in the Jedi, you knew everyone your age held some high regard still. Planets like Mon Cali had taken it further and harbored Jedi in their boarders. And paid a hefty price when it was discovered they were complicit. The Empire changed much with the Jedi. And was likely driving their religious order to extinction. Ester held the same faith in the order and knew more than you on their operations.

“I may not have a choice in the matter.” You replied solemnly.

Her hands held firm. But her eyes softened. “What’s happened?”

“I never did say who I was to the gallery with did I?”

“Your Highness…” she whispered. Touching her forehead with yours. “Don’t speak. Do not concern yourself with it. Roche need only agree to the basic terms. No one, not even the emperor can change that decision for you. No matter who you were seen with, social interaction -especially of the flirtatious kind- is expected at your age.” She pulled away and wiped away the single tear that trailed down your face.

“Thank you.” You only had a moment where you were grateful for her words. Before you hissed when her other hand smacked you upside your head.

“Now keep to yourself from now on unless you’re unable to leave you got it!”

You only laughed, “I’ll do my best.”

She nodded once. Just as the other three came out to help get set for the day.

Foerost was not the temperate climate of Corusant, nor was it a beautiful Naboo or your freezing home of Roche. But it was somewhere in between. Colder than most would find relaxing, but still habitable and teeming with life. And you were dressed accordingly. Ester following the same dress style for warmth and maneuverability. You were taken to a transport shuttle and left Corusant within the hour. The trip itself only taking a half hour flight.

When your shuttle landed it was in a huge facility near a farier racetrack. A central building for spectators and dining, and just beyond was a massive conservation zone. Encompassing acres of land, a massive woodland, and planes of grasslands within. Surrounded by towering walls and mounted turrets to prevent poachers entering from above. You were herded into the enormous edifice through a series of halls until you and five other nobles were ushered into the viewing decks.

You decided to stand off to the left and look outside. The immediate view was of the grassy plains, where the people participating in the hunt would gather before the horn sounds. Drones would be assigned to a hunter to record their kills; another would collect the bodies to be stuffed or cleaned for the kitchens. A mount would be provided by the conservation owners. A limited amount of rifle ammo would be distributed. And as soon as a hunter was out of ammo, they were finished. Beyond that was the edge of the thick forest. You would not be able to watch the hunt should animals flee there, hence the use of drones.

The interior of your viewing port was elegant. With luxurious seats and a table for refreshments. There was a small refresher room attached. The room was a dark green base with browns and yellows accenting the room. One of the other nobles grabbed a remote and the view of the plains mostly vanished. Split into smaller screens with no feed aside from the Farier races happening just down the road.

“I like to make sure these work before the hunt begins.” She explained. Turning the screens off once more so the plains could be viewed again. “How do you think your man will fair Mrs. Tarkin?”

Your eyes bulged a bit, but that was it. You really were exhausted if you didn’t even realize the company you kept. Keeping your face and posture forward, the air of noble nonchalance around you, as you listened to their conversation.

“I would bet highly on my husband.” Mrs. Tarkin replied. “Especially in the smaller or more cunning animals.”

“I don’t know, isn’t that new Grand Admiral participating?” another lady asked.

“He is not, something about experiencing barbaric customs.” Mrs. Tarkin huffed. “Considering he hasn’t shared his own culture’s history on such sports, he doesn’t get to judge.”

“He could still beat out your husband! You never know with aliens!” The same lady rebuffed.

“The only one I would expect to out hunt my husband is Lord Vader, and no one is sure if he’s participating.”

You waved Ester over. “Check to see if we’re in the right room.” You whispered. “If this hunt is anything like home, we’re going to need refreshments.” You spoke. Just loud enough for the other women in the room to notice you. Ester bowed and left. You hoped you were misplaced.

“Hm you must be a part of the embassy of available bachelorettes.” Mrs. Tarkin remarked. And you turned towards her.

You noticed the greying hair, the high cheeks and thin physique. She looked so similar to Tarkin you would have been leery of their relations. But time seemed to change many. You managed a small smile replying, “I’m actually the heiress of Roche, It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Tarkin.”

“Lady Tarkin.” She sneered like the viperous commanders. If she wanted the alternate address to what she was, that what she would receive. “And it’s a delight to have young blood with us today, right ladies?”

The other’s shared a laugh and you turned your gaze away from the slithering gold vipers. Your eyes had caught each of their hands or jewelry. The other five women wore some mark of marriage. You were surrounded by commander wives. No doubt your head would be splitting by the end of the day.

“Tell me your majesty,” one of the shorter women, the one wearing a Japor engagement necklace around their neck had walked over to you. “Does Roche hold such sports?”

Your eye’s skimmed over the women, presuming it would not be too upsetting if you kept your gaze forward. You didn’t want to come off as posh or as vile as them. But you needed to establish yourself as a figure worthy of respect. So, with a lower voice you answered her: “Roche has holidays where such sport is expected. No part of the hunt is wasted or stuffed. And none of the beasts are underestimated.” Your gaze flicked down to the gathering zone where a young captain was prancing around on a grey horse’s back. Only to be bucked off at the rough handling. You and the lady snickered at the sight.

“Have you been looking for any lad in particular?”

And here comes the headaches. “I have not. Roche for the most part is content with the basic agreements and will be following the Empire’s guidance with little commotion.”

“Such a shame.” Mrs. Tarkin replied. “You could do a lot better than some local boy.”

“Who said anything about boys? I was under the impression I was supposed to look for men here.” You sighed.

She chuckled. “Such Ambition, girl.”

“Oh, I would hardly call it ambition Lady Tarkin.” Ester returned with a pitcher of water and glasses. Handing you the first cup with a single finger tap against your hand. So, this was your assigned seating. Joyous. You tapped your glass twice and she proceeded to serve the others. “I have no interest in marrying here. At least not without the council of my parents.”

“How Contrite.” She replied waving off Ester’s offer for water. “To hold such beauty so close to require permission.”

You kept your features schooled. The epitome of calm boredom molded to your face. But it was there again. Beauty being at the mercy of others. Thrawn had said something similar, as did Lord Vader.

“I do not have the luxury of the common folk to marry for love or affection.” You replied smoothly.

“Of course, you don’t.” Her hand was gripping your chin. Twisting your face to her. You let some of your irritation at being touched show through. “Your just an innocent little bird set to twitter about in some cage for other’s enjoyment.” Her nails were digging into your cheeks leaving half crescent shapes. “Take my advice girl, hang permissions, hang opinions. If you want something for yourself go and get it.”

You slapped her hand away from you with an audible slap. “I’ll take advice when I ask for it, Lady Tarkin.” You hiss. “Accompany me.” Your order Ester, who dutifully nods and follows you out of the viewing booth.

It was probably foolish to walk out of that whole situation. But you would not listen to a bunch of married imperial wives’ gripe and harp on you about their failures or press their advice upon you. You had marched through the halls of the building. Hearing the muffled cheers and shouts of the crowds through the walls. The smell of sanitation droids scraping the walls down from unscrupulous markings and spills stung your nose. It has been too long since you smelled anything close to home.

“Do you know where their stables are?” You asked Ester. Your mind calmed a bit with the distance put between yourself and the rude ladies.

“Getting wee homesick, are we?” she teased. “There’s a stable open to viewers and the hunters. Are you sure you want to go down there while everyone’s prepping?”

“I’d rather be home on Roche. But I’ll settle for getting as far from those women as I can.” You teased right back.

The rest of the walk down the many flights of stairs and near endless hallways was mentally soothing. Better than the long hours with worthless chatter. You already knew the gist of the conversations you would have had if you remained _. “Handsome captain that I know of would gladly have your hand.” “these sports are so exhilarating I’m glad my man participated, they’re so hot.” “Oh, trade is just dreadful these days in the outer rim! Better off trading with pirates of Corellia.”_ Your parents always said if you could foresee the route of the conversation down to every single word used: you’ll learn nothing by staying in the conversation. Such a shame too that Tarkin’s wife was that kind of conversationalist. It made for poor political discussions and investigative efforts.

There were fogged off doors blocking the excessive noise within. The stables were one massive complex with blocked off sections for the mounts and racers within. It was absolute chaos.

What officers of the navy that appeared to participate, were outside waiting for the first bouty to be released, or they were having trouble getting used to riding another living creature with a mind of it’s own. Higher nobility was few and far between, mostly show offs or wanting to impress, and being unprepared for everything required for riding and shooting at the same time. There were more captains and nobles of your rank among the masses. Which put you at ease.

The braying and whinnying of the steeds were almost unbearable. If not for the workers hands guiding the inept riders on how to control the beasts and calming them down, you were sure there would be a pandemonium. There was the intense musk of nature, of beasts corralled to close for the sake of revenues, and wet hay. If the noise was less bombastic, irritating, and with more space given to each creature, it would have been like the stables of Roche.

“’scuse me,” a young boy, most likely an indentured servant spoke. A padd in hand. “Are ya ere to join the hunt?”

“CERTAINLY NOT!” Some off fat noble replied. “No place for a lady.”

The boy kept his eye’s on you, so you slipped him as many credits as he could carry safely and replied “I have yet to decide, may I look around for a mount?”

The boy smiled. “I’ll give ya a tour while you decide! I’m Shen By ‘t way.”

It was clear the boy loved caring for the animals here. With every mount he had pointed to the spoken their given name, species specifics on rideability and facts about the upkeep required. Most of the mounts were Orbacks. Mighty beasts of their own right and beautiful to boot. With Fariers reserved mostly for the races. Kaadu’s were plenty but not often chosen for these kinds of events. A single Varactyl was kept separate on display, which made your heart ache for the beast, knowing their enjoyment of running.

There was a stable barred off from the rest. Not like the Varactyl’s paddock. The place seemingly quarantined. Casted in shadow by tall barricades and taller bars. Even the door was built impossibly high.

“What is held there.” You ask. You feel a pull, the sound of hisses and cloven hooves with clawed tips scraping against the ground and hay with irritation, agitation, a desire to run.

“I’dnno.” The kid replies. “The masters bought that one off a smuggler. Only said it came from the planet Cianap.” He looks nervous as you step closer. “Give’s me the creeps.”

You get to the entrance and stand adequately away from the bars to be secure. But close enough to peer within. The darkness seems unnatural. Almost like the world shields The Beast within. The only things you can see are two flapping muscles near the haunches, the counting steps of three pronged hooves, and two bright red eye’s.

But as you look into its eye’s it seems to notice you. Rearing back with a nightmarish screech. And you see it is wholly black. Near bone thin. And two horns curve from it’s skull like an Unmaker’s beast. Crashing it’s claws and head into the door.

 _“Release me”_ You hear it croon over the racket of its claws _“I must hunt, release me!!!”_

“YOUR HIGHNESS!”

Ester’s voice and hands are pulling you back. You hand was outstretched to The Beast. Almost releasing the latch. The shadows recede from your view, and you see the Cianap creature in its entirety at last. Canines and molars are borne as three sharpened claws dig into the metal and wood, leaving tracks in both as it drops on all six legs. It mocks and spits at Ester and the boy who are trying to pull you away from it.

“I’m alright!” you don’t fight ester’s grip, and the boy is shaking. You pat his head and give Ester your attention. “What was I doing?”

“You were in a daze your highness.” She explains, recoiling when the creature hisses. “Almost like a babe with something they shouldn’t touch.”

You look to the creature again, and you see more of its teeth as it seems to smile. Calming down with your attention.

“Child, when was this creature fed last?” You asked. Ester letting go, but the boy was still shaking and gripping your skirts.

“They’re trying to break it in.” he explains. “No food or water until it takes the bit and saddle with no fuss.”

The creature hisses loudly at that, and the boy cringes behind your skirts. But you make up your mind.

“Ester can you go grab me a plate of lamb or porg please?”

“Of course!” she replied, knowing the kitchens were closer here than in the viewers booth. “Don’t you dare choose that beast!”

You didn’t have the heart to say anything reassuring, and she sighed that familiar sigh only a parent could make at their children. Shaking her head and muttering about your stubbornness as she left. Shin was walking away with her when you called him back.

“Do you have a Consent and willful endangerment forms to fill for this event?”

“Please don’t ride that thing!” Shin pleaded. “There are other mounts that would suit you better!”

“But would they listen to me?” You asked. “Would they do as I need in a hunt or go through their training courses with no concern for their rider?” you looked to The Beast that rested its head against the bars, scraping the horns against them, honing them. “We both saw the Orbacks and Kaadu’s are already taken by those who were here first. And the Varactyl that I know I can ride, is off limits to me.”

Shin was torn, and you sighed. “If you want to get your master to confirm the risks and liabilities with me first, go get them. I’ll sort it out.” He ran.

Leaving you with The Black Beast.

The shadows came creeping back to your perception, but you kept yourself grounded to your spot. Pinching your skin to keep you from fully plunging into whatever hypnotism was transpiring.

“ _Release me._ ” You hear it croon again. The teeth appearing once more as it opened its mouth and lavished it’s tongue over drying skin.

“I cannot free you.” You responded, looking down the halls to avoid looking strange. You didn’t know if this thing was even truly talking to you, or if it was some sort of joke.

“ _I must hunt.”_ It hissed in your mind. Snapping its jaw closed distinctly.

“I would like you to hunt with me.” You answered. “Whatever we catch is yours to eat.”

You see the body shake. A pulse of emotion, visceral hunger.

“However, I need insurance.”

“ _I need to hunt.”_

“I will not hunt with you, if you eat other people.” You hissed. Your posture straightening as you take one step closer. “I will not hunt with you if you buck me off.” Another step. “And I will not hunt with you, if you kill me to satiate your hunger.”

“ _I will not be bridled; I will not be saddled.”_ It hissed back. “ _We Hunt as One.”_

“How will I guide you if not for a bridle?”

“ _We Hunt as One.”_ It repeats. And you feel the famine it feels, as if it were your own. The heartbeat in its chest pounds in your own. Your legs are restless with the desire to run, to dig into the flesh of prey. “ _We Guide Each Other.”_

“We Hunt as One.” You affirm. This mount was force sensitive like the Vornskr or Akk Dog, you would know each other in the hunt. Even as you cringed at its bloodlust, you could work with this if it meant one less starving beast. “What do I call you?”

“ _They named me Badot.”_

“You’re the crazy lady that wants to ride this thing?!”

The stable manager is just as boisterous and rude as you figured his type to be. So many predictable people today. The body stood by his side with the padd in hand. And you got to work. Explaining your history in Roche’s hunts, your willingness to forgo lawsuits for injury or damages, and reimbursements for any medical attention you received during the hunt while riding the Cianap horse. It took some time, but the Roche hunts were more popular than you realized and just had to read and sign waivers. By the time the Boss was satisfied with all the legal jargon and payments for liability. Ester returned with the plate of roasted Porg.

“You really are your father’s Child.” She sighed. Handing you the plate.

You walked to the door and Badot stepped back, letting you open the gate without charging, and let you into its darkened stable. Leaving Ester to sooth the Stable Master that opposed your feeding.

There were too many claw markings inside to be healthy.

“How long have they starved you?” you whispered. Holding the plate in bent arms. Offering. Risking your arms in its quest for sustenance.

“ _Too long._ ” Badot replies. Stepping up to the plate and close enough for you to see the ridges of its skull under the tightened onyx skin. Sunken eye’s and drooling with hunger. And yet it holds itself back from lashing out, for running to the fields it could smell on the wind, from clawing your face and devouring your body. Tearing into the porg with little Finesse.

You tasted the drizzling oils of the porg slide down your throat, spices and herbs exploding on your tongue. The snarling huger is abated with the small avian offering. Bones scrape against your esophagus and into the gurgling acid of your stomach. It’s no fresh kill, but it works for now. It will keep you from biting stray hands and flinching from unwanted touches.

“Your highness?” Ester calls for you from beyond the stable. And you’re in your body once more. The plate is licked clean and Badot has lowered his head.

You raise your hand to his snout. And you hover there until you feel their permission. Feeling the coarse fur and scars under your soften skin. And you step out of the darkness. Hearing Ester, the stable master and child gasp as Badot follows your guidance without a fuss and no threat. He raises his head proudly. When you hand the plate to Ester you feel his humor as she flinches, fearing your touch was the only thing keeping it from attacking.

“Well Kriff…” the Stablemaster huffs. “Roche natives really do have a way with their animals huh?”

Badot jeered, and you saw all three of them flinch through red tinted eye’s.

“Behave yourself please.” You amply quipped. Feeling the humor well up in you even as you knew it was inappropriate to scare others for no reason. You walked away from Badot towards Ester. And to everyone’s amazement The Beast remained where you had guided him. “Ester, help me with my skirt please.”

She undid the white sash with ease. And you were left in the thick dark green shirt and black pants and boots. Shin had been sent to fetch a rifle and your limited rounds. A hunter’s blade and belt to keep it in. And came back with a camera and gathering droid hovering behind him. The temporary tracker bracelet was placed on your left hand. Which would be the main locator for the droids to follow. Ester quickly did your hair back away from your eyes. and with the bandolier and belt strapped to your chest and waist, you were ready.

“Don’t know how much game you’re gonna get, but the hunt will begin as soon as you join the other’s in the starting area.” The boy explained. Being extremely cautious with the rifle and The Beast nearby.

“Thank you.” You replied, watching the boy and stable master leave. “Ester you don’t need to wait for me here, if you find a place where you can gather information or enjoy yourself, go right ahead.”

“I don’t think I could go far away from here while you’re out there. Try not to get eaten.” She wasn’t joking. Her voice was too low to be mistaken.

“I will try.” You soothed as best as you could. Hugging her close. Only allowing her to go when she pulled away, leaving the now empty stables to you and The Beast: Badot.

You set the rifle in its holster on your back and counted the rounds you had: 15. Depending on the allotted quarry you could catch a decent amount with 15 rounds. Save some bullets in exchange for using the knife. This was no different than the hunts back home. Be quick. Be painless. Do not let any chance go to waste.

“ _We hunt as One.”_ Badot calls to you. You turn to see him kneeling on his from legs. Low enough for you to get on without an issue.

“We Hunt as One.” You return the gesture, easing yourself on his back to ride. Seeing red in your peripherals, as the thoughts of Badot become your own. You feel the great heart beating in his ribcage. You feel the weight of you on his back. And the exhilaration of the hunt to come. And you feel yourself open to Badot’s mind. He feels the bones of his body dig into your skin despite the layer of thick clothing. He feels your fear and sorrow for the mass death to occur. Your smaller heart frantically pumping and your mind racing faster than his six legs could ever run.

You would hunt as one.

You make your way out of the cramped stuffy stables into the fields of green, where the whinnies and cries of the other horses echo in the field. Feeling the wind brush your face and the soft dirt beneath three cloved hooves. You ride Badot with ease, dispute the lack of saddle, and he trots to the front of the gathering of lesser mounts with a hiss. Herding them into the wall as the anticipation for the hunt grows.

You catch the eye of Wilfrid Tarkin, more prepared than any other officer present. And he stares right back. “ _A challenge”_ Badot speaks to your mind. “ _He refuses to yield”_. Before you or any of the other hunters can comment on the sear audacity of riding out front and _shepherding_ the rest of the participants back. The low horn is blown, and the first quarry is shown in a holograph. An Ash rabbit and bearded jax, a limit of five could be caught by each hunter.

With a nightmarish shriek that cows the weaker Kaabu’s and nobles in the back. You and Badot take off. Flying in the field of grass, racing hearts, and knowledge of hunting strategies bouncing in your minds. The Orbacks, and other hunters try to match your speed, but they are lesser, slower. They are not desperate to feel the freedom of the wind, to satiate a hunger forced to endure, to flee from the responsibilities of nobility and the threat against your lives.

The forest is thick, but the roots are massive. Easy to climb over with claws. You smell different animals in the thickets and bushes. See the imprints of the frantic feet as the chase begins. A Jax streaks to the right and you turn to follow. It weaves under the bushes and brambles. You leap over the tree trunks in pursuit. When it finally leads you to its burrow, you leap off the back of Badot. Let him claw at the entrance and frighten the jax into your waiting knife.

It’s a burrow of two, you find the exit just as one of them flees into the forest. By the time the second one runs your knife is in hand. The jab into its chest is quick. Precise. Dead before it even knew you were waiting for it. Just as your mother taught you.

You catch two other Jax’s and two Ash Rabbits with the same strategy. Such small frightful things are quickly foiled the same way. Their corpses taken back to be counted. The Camera droid projects the next quarry as you get back on the kneeling Beast. A single Yeat and Guarlara.

Both were more likely to be in the Rocky Mountains. So, you raced off. Knowing the bounty to be great challenge.

The Guarlara was the first spotted. Clambering up the mountain paths alone. You and Badot went above it. Tripping whatever loose rocks could be dropped to spook it into making a fatal step. And save your shots for more dangerous prey. The beautiful horse of Naboo tumbled down the side of the cliffs. Its neck snapping on the way down. But as you descended the mountain to check if it was dead it was still breathing. Paralyzed by the fall. You dismounted, and with a soothing voice you encouraged it to close its eyes and sleep. Taking off the Rifle and place one shot into its brain to end its suffering.

AS the Guarlara was being taken for counting, you heard the horn sound off again. Meaning the round was over. And anyone that did not want to take on more vicious predators were to return to the main building. You would not be allowed to catch the Yeat. Nor did you want to return to the stables. So. the camera showed your next target. A Nexu, and 5 Dragaax.

The Nexu you knew was probably in the deeper parts of the forest. The Dragaax were released as soon as those that wanted to settle with the easier prey left the field. So, you mounted up once more, and took your time returning to the forest. Rifle in hand.

On the main pass down the mountain, you saw Tarkin walking towards the forest too. Relaxed for the most part. Rifle in hand but pointed to the ground. Much like your Rifle was in your lap pointing away from anyone.

“Admiral Tarkin.” You called out. You felt Badot hiss lowly at the thought of carrying two, and you reassured them that you would not offer. “What happen to your Orback?”

“Fell to a Ralltiir.” He replied, eying the Beast you road on. But said nothing and kept his eye’s forward. Tracing the edge of the forest with a keen eye.

“Shame.” You replied, petting Badot’s shoulders lightly as the urge to hiss rose with Tarkin’s stare.

“Indeed.”

There were no other words traded between you. Yet you decided to stay close. A Nexu was vulnerable to physical attacks but it was incredibly dangerous. Tarkin was a well verse hunter. You both would be safer in numbers this time.

“What’s your target?” you inquired.

Tarkin refused to speak. So, you returned to silence. But noted the tracks he checked on were also a Nexu’s. Badot snuffed the ground, and you could tell it was a mated pair. Before the Nexu’s could get any advantage, you got off Badot. And readied a shot. Following behind Tarkin and covering his blind spots. Badot covering his right.

“If your intent is to get me killed blundering through the forest you are sorely mistaken.” He voiced aloud.

“Would you rather face two of these Nexu’s on your own?” You snipped back. Letting Badot trot ahead. “Let him bring our prey to us.” You climbed up the thick tree and readied your rifle to snipe from a distance.

For the most part you assumed Tarkin would just settle in a different branch, in a different tree. To your surprise however, he seized a spot near you, without obstructing your view. Close enough to chat, but far enough to not hinder either of you. You sat in silence for the time. Until you felt the spike of adrenaline hit you. Putting you on alert, just as the twin roars echoed through the forest. Putting Tarkin on alert.

With a whoosh through the broad leaves, you saw the black shadow of Badot racing through the roots and plants, with a Nexu on its flank and the second in the trees behind it, trying to gain the high ground.

“Take the one on the ground” Tarkin ordered.

And you did, in two shots. Tarkin getting the other Nexu out of the tree with a timed shot to a weak branch. As you both made your way down the tree and to the corpses. Badot was munching on the paw of the Nexu you shot. Heaving air through his lungs. Ignoring Tarkin’s presence entirely, and letting you pet his shoulder in thanks.

“Better shot than I imagined you to be.” Tarkin remarked, seeing the remnants of plasma fire on the hind leg of your first shot, and the second one on it’s chest, piercing the heart. “What planet do you hail from.”

“Roche, Grand Admiral.” You answered, trying to keep your lungs from hauling in air it didn’t need.

“Ah, Yes. I participated in the Frozen Hunts. Your people are quite adept in this sport.”

“I wonder if we’re allowed to put our quarries to use other than trophies.”

“You will have to request it from the Hunt Master. I recall your people do not keep such aspects of hunting for personal use.”

“Indeed, we do not.” Badot finishes voring the leg into his gullet and steps onto the forest floor so you can just lean onto it’s back. Not wanting to kneel before the other hunter. “Thank you, Grand Admiral.” you said, seeing your Nexu being picked up.

Tarkin only nods in acknowledgement. And the final horn is blown low and long. Calling everyone back. You decide to ride alongside the walking Tarkin. Quietly trading hunting stories from the Roche frozen festivals with a calm reverence for the act of hunting itself. And a quiet respect to personal beliefs, avoiding the words going towards a faith-based conversation. Going silent with every other hunter that returns from the field.

The building comes into view once more. And the foliage of the forest gradient into grass. As you approach Badot beneath you hisses. Trotting forward and above the group without your consent. You know it’s a matter of pride for The Beast. But you fear the repercussions by taking point. You have not done anything impressive on this day. Aside from calming a single mount that did not belong to anyone unwillingly.

The game organizer is clapping, the hunt Master is waiting with a smile, and the stadium where the common and low paying folk could watch erupt in cheers. The counters are still tallying the marks on the corpses hide. And the satisfied nobles and officers’ dismount and let the workers take the Orbacks in for feed.

“Grand Admiral! It’s always a pleasure to provide magnificent beasts for your skills.” The game Master walks up to Tarkin and vigorously sakes the man’s hands. The hunt masters a short distance from the two high officials.

Badot huffs, and you feel the dull throb of hunger rising. So, you guide him closer to the Hunt Master to make your case.

“Hunt master?” you call. And he turns the air of boredom turning to shock when he realized just what your riding. “I request my game be preserved and fed to This Beast and stable staff.”

You watch his stance go from preparing to flee to irritation. “I can’t do that.”

Badot Hisses and you rub into his leathery neck to ease the hatred building within.

“If it’s a matter of pride that keeps you from feeding animals, I request you hang it.” Your voice lowers, “If it’s a matter of training it’s clear you need to change your strategies.” and your voice lowers once more, nearing the edge of a growl as the anger wells in your own heart at the mistreatment. “And if it’s because you enjoy the misery of your charges, I will not be held responsible should your beast choose to bite the hand that refuses to feed it.”

The Hunt Master pales. And you hear the low laughter of the Game Master behind you, you turn from your perch to look back, and Badot turn’s his neck to look at the fat pig.

“And here I thought Roche’s people were better than savages!” The big man remarks, his hands resting on his belt like a well-to-do merchant swindling from buyers.

“We are, considering few people and beasts starve on my home world.” You hiss. Badot nods it head, careful of its horns and your exposed neck.

“Then you wouldn’t mind doing one more hunt hmm? Since you pride yourself on providing for those lesser than you. And you clearly have a nack from the Frozen Hunts on your home world. I have just the game for you.” He presses something on his cuff and the grass parts. A massive Crimson Kryate Dragon rises on a platform, bound my stasis cuffs and chains. “I was hoping Tarkin would take this honor and go one-on-one, but since you’ve offered… I’ll even let you have the pearl within.”

Your Revulsion overpowers the unheedful pride of Badot Below you. How long and how often were these farms of agony built and maintained for cruel enjoyments. Your traditions, your history, your training screamed at you to deny them the glory of seeing you murder innocent creatures to get your way. Even The Beast below you focused the revulsion into anger, growling with glinting fangs.

“The game I killed is mine to do as I desire with yes?”

“It is, I can have the Nexu’s Stuffed, and I know the Jax and Ash Rabbits would make fine gifts for children-“

“Then preserve my game into edible materials and feed This Beast regularly.” You snapped interrupting the Game Master. Whose face tried to remain jovial. “Give the job of feeding to Shin the stable boy who showed me around your collection.” His grin fell as he realized his word choice. Here Badot turned slightly so you could stare down from on high. The pig looking so pathetic for trying to maneuver you into a corner. Oblivious to the verbal trap you laid. “And do not insult me or my home by demanding me to kill that dragon for Sport.”

The game master was sneering, and you remained on The Beast, your face schooled into authority. You had heard the Hunt Master flee as soon as your focus was on his superior. Badot’s body blocking them from each other. He is glaring up at you, and you staring calmly down at him. Neither of you relenting. You knew your rights, and so did he. Your competition was broken when the Pig turned to the sound of Tarkin’s low laughter.

“You cannot win this one Old Friend.” He gives the Pig a arrogant smile. Cool, knowing his words carried weight. “The Rochenites are strict with their game. Be grateful our lovely representative is not demanding rights be performed for each fallen quarry.”

The Beast bristled at the insult on your behalf. Respect for the hunted was nothing to scoff at. But the Game Master relented. Head shaking and hands raised in defeat. “Ah fine, it’s not something I want to fight anyway. Tarkin if you want to take on a Crimson Dragon just let the droid know.”

He only nodded, accepting the handshake from the Game Master, before he waddled away. Leaving you, Tarkin, Badot, and five other hunters on the Field.

“Do remember Representative of Roche, that I will not be so easily swayed or cowed by a glare.” Tarkin spoke. “Stay on the field and function as bait for me.”

“And if I refuse?” The courage came from the Babot. You were against with your own words. Unable to catch them as they tumbled past your filters.

“Then I have my Old friend take your beloved Beast out back and shot.” He replied smoothly. Pressing the indicator for his consent. “And you get sent home with a garrison and construction crew to begin building the Base on your home world.”

Badot rears as you hiss. Twisting with clawed hooves spread, shrieking into the sky as you try to stay on. Not noticing how close Tarkin’s chest came to being marred as it stomped his way. Tarkin stepping back at The Beast’s Threat. You couldn’t let him take your home, and Badot was against being slaughtered so lamentably.

“Peace.” You whisper to Badot repeatedly. Your hands wrapped nearly around it’s throat like a collar, grounding you both with the act, and the agreement you made. “We will function as bait in your hunt. Nothing more.”

“Splendid.” Tarkin replied. Walking to the five officers to debrief them on strategies.

 _For a man that smelled of Lavender and clean Cotton he reeked of cruelty and malice._ You thought. Badot huffed in agreement.

Shield Pillars rose from the ground protecting the audience from any flying debris. The entire grassy plane was bordered by high durasteel walls. An Arena was made. The Crimson Dragon was shocked into agitation. And Tarkin riding a new Grey Orback trotted to your side.

“Try not to get killed, my men may be the best shots, but they are not perfect.” He explained. “They have order’s not to purposefully shoot you.”

“Appreciated Grand Admiral.” You grouse. Badot nipped at the Orback to scare it away. This one however seemed to be trained better than its peers, because it only took one side step.

A crackle and the clinks of chains rattled loudly over the sound of the horn. And the Crimson Dragon roared its agony and anger.

The Final Hunt

Badot bolted forward. Shrieking a challenge at the dragon. Which turned its large head towards you, acid already spilling down it’s fangs. Racing close to its flank you garnered its full attention. Ducking away from massive claws swiping at you. You ran, your heart no longer pounding in exhilaration towards a goal, but frantically for survival. You and Badot guided the massive beast away from the audience and further into the flatlands, leaping to the sides as large wads of acid were spat towards you. You couldn’t hear anything over the roaring dragon and your own beating heart. Fear was digging it’s claws into you. your hands digging into the already tender skin of Badot below, drawing blood down his shoulders and front legs.

“ _We Hunt.”_ You heard Badot remind you. “ _We are Not Prey. We are Prey No More.”_

Your mind flashes with a foreign planet, desolated city’s and decaying fighter ships. And a god of mass destruction prepares to devour you whole, there is a humming to your left and a heavy weight on your back, pushing you to fight back. Pushing you to do more than survive.

You blink and the vision is gone. Your hands release your death grip, and you reach for your rifle on your back. Slinging it over your shoulder and placing a single blast round within the chamber. It’s hard to turn around as Badot gallops though the fields. But you manage. Facing the Crimson Dragon with your legs the only hold on Badot. You trust Badot to keep running. To not trip or fall to exhaustion. And he trusts you to shoot should the dragon get too close. It’s easier to doge the flying acid this way. It’s easier to weave and tire the dragon. You both are creatures of Endurance and Grace. The dragon is nothing but Strength. You watch the few stray bolts from behind the beast bounce off the armored hide.

And you feel the encroaching exhaustion. The teeth are closer, the acid is harder to avoid. You cannot leave the hunt to Tarkin and his men any longer. So, you pull yourself up, steadying your aim. Waiting. And waiting. You watch its mouth gather the liquid, knowing Badot is slowing as the chase goes on for far too long. And you cannot wait anymore.

You take the shot. Right into the mouth and the pool of Acid you would not have escaped. The charge blows, and the acid bursts into flame. The dragon gurgles, and stumbles. You see it close its jaw and swallow the now enflamed liquid acid and you cringe. The roar is gurgled as the lungs inhale the toxins from its own gullet. But it regains itself and pursues once more.

It’s pissed, you feel it. It’s jaw no longer hangs open as it did before. Wise to your ploy, it keeps your target limited. You ready the next round as it gathers up more acid.

You wait. You wait. Bouncing with every waning gallop Badot takes. You must end this. For Badot’s life, for your sake, for the Dragon’s sake. You hear the gurgling hiss of acid burning in its gullet and it opens its mouth to spit again.

You shoot.

The blast brings it down. Tumbling into the soft soil, leaving a crater in its collapse. The flaming acid pools beneath its mass, melting the flesh and filling the air with a foul smell. But it does not get up again. Badot cannot sense its energy.

Tarkin leads the other hunters around the corpse to where you are. Badot wheezes and you are left breathless and dazed. Tears run down your cheeks at the betrayal. Such grace, an honored creature. Dead by your hand. You manage to close your gaping mouth as Tarkin approached.

“Not quite the finesse I had hoped, but brilliant none the less.” He noted. “The Empire could use skills such as yours.”

The words are so simple, and yet they set you upon the pikes of his victory. Used. Again. Betraying yourself for the Empire. AGAIN. You turn on Badot’s back, when settled facing forward once more he races back to the stables. Your mind yours -completely- since the start of this hunt. Badot giving in to your cries to flee. Leaving Tarkin and the other Imperial members in the wind.

The stables are quieter than when you first arrived. The animals all tired or dead because of the hunt. Badot had slowed to a walk, slinking through the rows of cages back to the clawed-up corner. Kneeling you slid off his back, but you refused to let go. Your legs gave out from under you, and you stumbled, kneeling on the few strands of hay and dirt. Badot laid down, letting your tears stain his thin fur. Feeling his nose rub up and down your back. Little wings on his haunches fluttering softly.

“ _Sing your honors.”_ He spoke. “ _They linger for you.”_

You didn’t want your voice to be heard. These beasts have done more against you than the four-legged herbivores and creatures they kept in squaller. It didn’t help that your throat was tightening in shame. You felt Badot’s mind press against your own, and you let him in. Feeling the swirling energies of the Orback’s exhaustion, the excitement of the spectators above, and the remnants of those that were free from torment: the creatures killed for sport. Including the great Crimson kryate dragon. Like willowing wisps on the edge of existence.

You couldn’t speak the words, but your thoughts carried in the force with the help of Badot. The hymns of respect and gratitude for their struggle. Songs of valor and survival reverberating among the wisps. Closing with a call for peace at last.

“Your Highness?”

You pulled from Badot’s side. Stroking the head of your Hunting Partner in one last thanks. Your head turning to hear Ester better. “Yes?”

“A trooper came to find you, but I kept him from seeing you….” She spoke softly. She had no idea why you were crying, yet she knew, somehow, someway, it involved the Dragon. “You’ve been asked to meet with the Emperor in the private booths.”

You were way to tired for anything. “You have my skirt?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

You stood, kissing the head of Badot as you raised up. Badot’s energy receded from you. “ _Thank you Pateesa.”_ he said. Laying fully to sleep until his meal was brought as promised.

You brushed away what straws you could before Ester tied the skirt on once more. The large white sash holding tight in a large bow on your back. Before you left you closed the stable door to Badot’s little haven. So as not to be disturbed from sleep. Ester, bless her, had brought a cold cloth for you to reduce the swelling of your red eye’s. Knotting the large strapping around your head to sooth your heated face as she guided you to the lift and on the way up. 20 floor trip you trusted her with your sight. Excusing your temporary blindness to onlookers as fatigue from the hunt.

She removed it from your face as the lift dinged its arrival. Just in time for the doors to open revealing Lord Vader.

You bowed your head as did Ester. “Lord Vader.”

His mask tilted slightly and stepped to the side in silence. “The emperor does not like to be kept waiting.” He spoke lowly.

You walked forward and turned to the VIP rooms. Hearing Ester’s yelp as the lift doors closed on her and sent her back to the ground level. You did not react as considerably as you probably should. And you knew it was a combination of your own exhaustion, and familiarity with the dark Lord. You were not to perish just yet.

Not yet.

So, you walk in silence with death trailing your steps. Until you reached the final doors and two red guards at its sides. Who opened the double wood doors for you and Lord Vader to step through.

The VIP sections were much larger and opulent then the section you and the Officer Wives were in previously. But you didn’t care all that much anymore. This day was exhausting and encouraging a dangerous rise in Apathy. There were only four other Grand Admirals in the room. Tarkin and Thrawn among them talking with the Game Master. Far enough to discuss their business without disturbing the Emperor, but close enough for them to be called upon. You stepped in and approached the Emperor’s seat, curtsying when you reached the proper distance on his left. Lord Vader Standing at the Emperor’s right facing you.

“Your Eminence.” You spoke with erroneous reverence.

“Rise Child.” He croaked under the black hood. And you did. Your hands laying lightly crossed over your stomach and the white sash. “Your grace in the ballrooms extend beyond my expectations. It’s rare to find someone as adept in killing beasts as my Admirals. I wonder just what song you danced too when staring down the gullet of the Kryate Dragon.”

 _No good, kriffing, son-of-a-Sarlacc Acid pit._ You thought. “A healthy amount of fear, anger, and a _Prestissimo_ pace if my heart is a good beat to count by.” You replied dryly.

Vader’s voicorder spat out static and your eyes snapped up with the Emperor’s. A beat of silence ensued before the Emperor resumed speaking.

“Such a rapid song to have your body dance too.” He remarked. Yellow teeth flashing into a wicked smirk. “Yes, I think I shall enjoy seeing you dance tomorrow night.”

You wanted to flee yet your legs felt like lead, what was he planning now. “There was no scheduled dance for tomorrow, last I was aware.”

“Am I not allowed to indulge in a private affair?” He was grinning madly. And you tensed, anger flaring up with a side helping of embarrassment. Damn his double entendres. “There is a small gathering I like to hold for promising representatives for positions in my empire. Consider this your personal invitation. Tomorrow at 2, I expect your attendance.”

“I am honored, your Eminence.” Even as you winced thinking about your paltry apparel.

“Good.” Vader waved a hand and one of the men -the Game Master- came around Vader with an Imperial credit chit. Offering it directly to you. “The Game Master was kind enough to announce you victor of this tournament over Admiral Tarkin. I do hope you indulge in a new dress. Lord Vader will accompany you into the city for security’s sake.”

You wanted to gag and feint and die from mortification. Lord Vader, from what you could tell from a shifting stance, seemed to share your sentiments. “Thank you, I’m certain Coruscant has magnificent tailors.”

“It does, Now go my dear. I hold no doubt, that there are many people clamoring to congratulate your victory.”

You curtsied once more and left. The whole affair causing a sour sense of flavors in your mouth. Your nausea not abating until you landed back on Coruscant and had a chance to rest.

No doubt Vader would want to be freed from guard duty as soon as possible. And you wanted to avoid the speculation of the paparazzi. So, you let your staff know you would be leaving immediately as soon as the clock struck 6 and would return as soon as possible to prepare for the Emperor’s private gala.

Warning them that Death may knock at your door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badot - Death in Huttese  
> Pateesa - Friend in Huttese
> 
> The Cianap horse things are mostly unknown creatures in the comics so I got to have fun with this~~~~  
> Please leave comments below if there are other tags I need to add.


End file.
